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Chapter Text

September

Paris

Alina liked taking the long way to university.

Before her classes, she normally spent time meandering the cobbled streets, getting lost in little alleyways, walking by the riverside and enjoying the city that she called home. Sometimes she stopped for a pain au chocolat or a cafe, maybe even a newspaper–  however, today was not that day as Alina was in a hurry. 

She had spent the weekend in Burgundy with her Aunt Ana and the other nuns at the small convent where Alina had been raised and had only arrived back this morning. Alina hadn’t even had time to stop by her flat before heading to her first class of the week from Gare de Lyon since her train had run late. 

The overcast September morning seemed to beckon autumn into the city and the drizzly rain darkened and slickened the pavement. Alina, who was running late for her first class of the week, was mildly annoyed by the slow human pace she had to maintain in order not to draw attention to herself. If only she could really run, like she could in the countryside, fast and free– but alas, to blend in to the crowd of Parisians and tourists she only walked slightly faster than the average human. 

Her black umbrella was up to protect her from the rain, but it also served as a nice camouflage. It was easy to duck her head and tilt her umbrella down to obscure her face. It mitigated the amount of shocked faces who would be dazzled by her. 

Alina was crossing Pont d’Austerlitz when she smelled it. 

On the wet, cool and humid breeze, mixed in with the other smells of humans, pollution, butter, urine and cigarette smoke, she smelled a scent that cut through the others like a knife. 

The headiness of amber, bergamot, oud, scotch, and something else, something older, stopped her in her tracks. She looked around to find the scent. 

She found the man immediately, the man with the intoxicating and complex smell, and he was already staring at her from forty meters away. 

Her inhuman heart started to race. 

The man standing on the other end of the bridge, across the street under a large black umbrella, was the most stunning man she had ever beheld. 

With dark hair and eyes, a purely male square jawline, and a fair complexion like her own, Alina knew in her bones that this man was like her… only less human. 

A Vampire. 

Fear curled down her spine. 

Alina had never met a true vampire before. The only knowledge she knew of them was courtesy of her late mother who had left Alina a letter before she died, explaining the relationship she had with an otherworldly man who was fast, strong and impossibly handsome. The union that had resulted in Alina’s conception and rapid birth. 

And when Alina started drinking blood as a child, she put the pieces together of what her father must be. 

She had never come across another vampire before, although in the past, she had yearned to. She was desperate to learn about her vampire heritage and she hoped to one day find her father. 

Yet, beholding a true vampire in the flesh made her feel uneasy. Fearful. 

This mysterious man, gorgeous and noble in his elegance, was dangerous. It was instinctual, this trickle of fear she felt, like her body could sense that he was a threat by his scent alone. 

Alina herself was a predator, and yet her instincts told her that this man was the true predator. The ultimate predator.

Alina’s analysis of him took only a split second.  

Cars, taxis and bicycles crossed the bridge and pedestrians walked by them both. Between them, Alina only got brief flashes of the vampire.

And yet, one moment he was across the street, far away, and the next, he was standing in front of her, barely a meter away. 

If Alina had been wholly human she was sure she would’ve jumped in fright. 

Instead her heart galloped in her chest. 

Up close, the man was tall, much taller than her petite stature, and imposing. He appeared to be in his late thirties or early forties and was dressed impeccably in a dark suit. His dark brown hair, almost black, was thick and shiny, and he possessed just the faintest beard. 

But it was his eyes that alarmed her. Beneath a strong brow, his eyes were a deep, dark amber– burning bright– and they were focused on her with an intensity that scared her. 

His concentrated scent washed over her like a gentle wave and it was strangely heady. She felt her cheeks heat under his attention. 

Inside his suit jacket, a phone started ringing. 

He ignored it. 

Before Alina could utter any words, the man said something to her in another language, one she didn’t recognize but that sounded old, possibly even archaic, and Slavic. 

His voice was low and seductive like crushed velvet. His eyes, roving over her face, were almost frantic. 

Alina shook her head– not understanding him, or what was happening. She clutched the curved wooden handle of the umbrella harder and hoped that she wouldn’t crush it under her tense grasp. 

“I– I’m sorry I don’t understand,” she said. 

He switched to perfect, native sounding French immediately. 

“Who are you?” 

Alina blinked. 

“Or better yet,” he continued deeply, not quite aggressively, but in an intense tone that made her uneasy, “what are you?” 

“I…” Alina stuttered. 

Suddenly, in this moment she’d always hoped for, a meeting with another vampire, she was frozen in shock. 

She’d imagined variations of this moment before. Saying, Hello I’m Alina Séjour. My mother was a human and my father a vampire. But I don’t know much about vampires or your world. Can you answer some questions for me? There’s so much I want to know.

His phone started to ring again. 

Instead, Alina panicked. 

“I… I’m sorry but I’m going to be late. Excuse me, monsieur.” 

With her heart in her throat, Alina brushed past the man, breaking their eye contact and leaving space between them as she did so. 

Surely, the vampire wouldn’t make a scene here. On a crowded bridge with so many human witnesses around. 

He didn’t follow her, but Alina felt heat on her back as the man watched her retreat. 

As she finally made her way off the bridge, she veered right to cut through the Jardin des Plantes and picked up her pace, even though it was a bit too fast. She let out a surprisingly human ragged breath. 

Alina was relieved not to find the vampire waiting outside of the building when her classes in the historic Latin Quarter finally finished early in the evening. She had hardly been able to focus on Rabelais and his prose, instead thinking of the brooding man of her dreams and nightmares. 

He had been so beautiful, she thought almost wistfully. And he smelled so wonderful and complex– so much nicer and stronger than any human man. But he seemed so dangerous. Death seemed to cling to him. 

Lost in her thoughts, Alina walked to the nearest metro station and took Metro line 4 to Abbesses, the closest station to her flat. 

This time of the evening was always so busy, with commuters and students heading home after a long day at work, and Alina detested being in the little metal tube with dozens of sweaty people. The concentrated scents were horrendous on the metro, however she didn’t want to risk walking an hour home. Something told her that if she did, she may see the mysterious vampire again. 

But Paris was a huge city, and losing herself in it would be easy. 

As she got off the metro, her tall, black heeled boots clicking pleasantly on the concrete stairs, she was pleased to make her way above ground to fresh air. 

She lived in a quiet little corner of Montmartre. She loved how charming this arrondissement was, with boulangeries, fromageries, newspaper stands, bookshops and adorable little wine bars. Awnings made of brightly striped patterns, bicycles and planters filled with pretty flowers, windmills, decorated little storefronts and cobblestone-lined streets. Of all the arrondissements, Montmartre, to Alina, felt the most quintessentially French. Like a village nestled into a larger city. 

She rounded the corner of her narrow side street, happy to be back home to her attic flat with its incredible view of Sacre-Coeur, when she stopped short. 

The vampire stood outside of her building, leaning against the wall with pure ease. 

Alina was shocked. 

He’d somehow known how to find her. 

She could run, but he had already spotted her. Alina had no choice but to approach the strange man again.

“You,” she said, crossing her arms as she neared him.

The man straightened gracefully and it annoyed Alina how handsome he was. 

“I’m afraid we got started on the wrong foot,” he said, opening his palms to her in a clear gesture of non-aggression. “I apologize for my manners this morning. My name is Aleksander Morozov.” 

Alina only raised an eyebrow at him. 

“And waiting outside my flat is good manners?” she asked. 

Aleksander smiled. It was devastating. 

“I suppose not. Although, it was quite easy to trace your scent to this building. You should really be more careful. Any one of my kind could track you here.” 

Alina frowned and fought the urge to squirm under his gaze. “I don’t appreciate you coming here like–like some stalker.” 

He seemed amused by her words, but said “again, I apologize, mademoiselle. But after this morning, I was eager to make your acquaintance.” 

“Why?” Alina asked, brow furrowed. 

At this, Aleksander ran his eyes over her form blatantly and Alina knew her fair cheeks were turning pink at his heated gaze. 

“Because…,” he murmured softly, too softly for ordinary human ears to pick up, “you are extraordinary… and a mystery. I have never come across anyone like you before in my very long existence.” 

Alina’s breath caught. 

“Someone like me?” she questioned, softly as the breeze caused her silver locks to flutter. 

“Yes, someone like you,” he said, eyes dark and intense as they stared at her. “Like me, but also clearly… different… human.” 

“Really?” she breathed out in shock, all thoughts of being aloof forgotten in her desperation for knowledge. 

“Really, malyshka. Now, tell me your name.” 

Alina contemplated not telling him, but it seemed futile. Her surname was posted on the building, afterall. 

“I’m Alina Séjour,” she said, finally. 

Aleksander smiled. 

“Enchante, Alina Séjour. Now, where can we talk?”  

Ten minutes later, after Alina had freshened up and dropped her bag off in her flat, she met Aleksander downstairs. He was waiting patiently on a bench across the street, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world. 

It was mildly annoying. 

“There’s a wine bar just down the street,” she said, in greeting. “We can talk there.” 

Aleksander nodded and they walked in tense but rather compatible silence for four and a half minutes before reaching the little bar with its black and white striped awning and outdoor bistro tables. 

It was busy, it always was this time of the evening, with young people in trendy clothing sitting outside for a post-work or school aperitif with their partners and friends. Alina fit in easily enough with her jeans and black sweater, but Aleksander looked a bit too formal in his suit. Like a wealthy finance man who had just finished work in La Défense. Although, as her Aunt Ana always said, it’s better to be overdressed than underdressed. 

They settled at a table outside facing the sidewalk and when the waiter brought them a menu, the young man was visibly taken aback by the pair of them. He stuttered at them in greeting and kept glancing between them as if unsure who to stare at. Alina smiled encouragingly at him, a bit nervous about the spectacle they were making. Already a few people from nearby tables were looking over at them. Her smile seemed to ease his trepidation somewhat but he seemed eager to leave their company. 

Alina pursued the menu in the midst of all the chatter around them and Aleksander remained silent. He was watching her, she knew, but she didn’t look up and give him the satisfaction of her attention. 

She was nervous but didn’t want it to show.

When the waiter came back a few minutes later and Alina ordered a glass of Burgundy vintage, Aleksander asked for the same. 

Once the young man was gone, Alina had no choice but to look to Aleksander. 

He was staring at her rather intensely. 

“So,” she began, drumming her fingernails on the table. Her long, almond shaped nails were painted an opaque blush color that looked almost natural. “Do you live in Paris?” 

He shook his head. 

“No. I own a flat here but I rarely visit.” 

Alina nodded slowly.

“I suppose that makes sense why our paths haven’t crossed before.”

Aleksander hummed. 

The waiter returned with two glasses of Savigny-Lès-Beaune pinot noir and set them down shakily before them. 

Alina smiled, “Merci beaucoup.” The waiter blushed and scurried away. 

Alina reached for the wine, swirling it around thrice before sniffing it. It smelled wonderful. Like jammy blackberries on a balmy summer evening. 

She took a small sip, rolling the flavor across her tongue before swallowing. It was lovely. Not as lovely as the wine her aunt made of course, but lovely nonetheless. 

She looked at Aleksander and he was watching her with his undivided interest. His eyes were dark. 

“You drink wine,” he stated. 

“Yes?” she said, slowly. “Do you not?” she asked after a beat of his silence. 

He shook his head. 

“I only drink blood.” 

“Oh,” she said, taken aback by his bluntness. Luckily his declaration was murmured so that no one around them could hear. 

“What else can you drink or eat?” he asked her, leaning forward in interest. 

Alina blinked.

“I can digest anything, but most human food tastes extremely bland to me. I like foods with a lot of flavor. Like red meat, dark chocolate, coffee and wine. I like truffles and smelly cheese. Caviar. Dumplings. Anything spicy.” 

“Do you drink blood?” he asked her boldly. 

“I– of course I drink blood!” she said, affronted. “I go to the butcher’s every week.” 

“Ah,” he said in amusement. “You drink animal blood. But not from the source.” 

“I could never drink human’s blood,” she shot back. “And I live in the city, of course I can’t get it directly from the source. There aren’t exactly a lot of wild animals roaming around unless you count the pigeons.” 

He chuckled and it infuriated her. 

“What kind of blood do you drink?” she asked, crossing her arms. 

“Ah, now that is an interesting question, Alina,” he said, leaning back. “Quite simply, I drink anything I want,” he said, shrugging. “Although, recently I have been drinking solely animal’s blood.” 

“Is that normal?” she asked. “Do all vampires drink animal blood?”

He smiled, but it was the kind of smile that reminded Alina of the children’s stories about big bad wolves eating little girls. 

“No, Alina,” he said, dragging out the last a in her name. “Most of my kind drink human blood. It tastes… exquisite. Exceptional. It is far superior to animal blood. And it is our nature.” 

It wasn’t wholly surprising. Alina had predicted that most vampires would drink human blood but it made her stomach feel strange. She was half-vampire, half-human. Blood called to her, but never a human’s. She didn’t think she’d be able to stomach drinking human blood. The greatest bloodlust she’d experienced was in the woods of Burgundy smelling a herd of deer after not feeding for weeks. 

“So why do you drink animal blood then?” she asked, after a moment, curious. “If it's so much inferior to humans?” 

Aleksander leaned back in his chair again, utterly relaxed. Alina noticed for the first time that he wore a cameo ring on his middle finger on his right hand. The band was matte-gold and it boasted a large black stone, obsidian perhaps, with a raised golden family crest upon it. It was beautiful, Alina thought. And it looked old, like a vintage antique that she would see at her favorite flea market. He drummed his fingers on the table. 

“When you get to be my age, life starts to get a bit dull. I like the challenge.” 

Alina’s heart started to beat faster. 

“That is… absolutely fascinating,” Aleksander said, head quirked to the side, listening. “Your heart beats faster than a normal human. Almost like a hummingbird.” 

Alina nodded. 

“And your blush… I can see the blood beneath your skin. It’s extraordinary. I’ve never seen anything like it.” 

Alina swallowed and looked away. She watched a young couple stroll down the pavement, hand in hand, in their own world, laughing and smiling to each other. They unintentionally stopped in front of their table to share a long kiss before moving along. 

A pang of loneliness struck at the easy intimacy the couple shared. 

“So… it’s unusual, then? To be like me?” she asked, finally looking at Aleksander again. 

“It’s unheard of, Alina. You are one of a kind,” he said, voice low. Amber eyes gazing at her with… something. 

“Why is it so unheard of?” 

Aleksander chuckled but leaned forward.  

“It’s unheard of, kukolka, because no female vampire can bore a child. And for a male vampire to impregnate a human woman without killing her first? It would take an incredible amount of restraint, of control.” 

His dark eyes tracked her, waiting for a response. 

“Oh,” Alina said. It was something she had wondered before, if she was singular, destined to be alone– and it seemed like it. Her worst fear had come to fruition. 

“Alina,” Aleksander said, almost urgently. 

It was fascinating, she thought, how this man went from relaxed to intense in a split second. Alina had a feeling that the intensity he displayed was far more honest than the relaxed poses and body language. 

“What do you know of your conception? Of your father?” 

Alina bit her lip and she looked away. Aleksander was handsome, and he’d been forthcoming thus far, but she didn’t fully trust him yet. Still, he might have valuable information that could help her. 

She glanced over at a nearby table when they erupted in laughter. She glanced back to Aleksander. 

“My mother’s pregnancy was very rapid– it took only weeks instead of months. She died giving birth to me. She told my human aunt a bit about my father. Apparently, he was Russian. And they met here in Paris and spent a weekend together.” 

Aleksander reared back, genuinely surprised. 

“Russian? Are you sure?” 

“Yes, of course I’m sure!” Alina snapped. “My name is Alina, after all.” 

Horror began to curl in her stomach. 

“You haven’t…?” she trailed off, uncertainly. Aleksander could be a Russian name. And she was pretty sure he’d been saying little bits in Russian to her. “You’re not…?” 

His eyes widened before narrowing into a glare.

“Of course not, Alina. I don’t make a habit of fucking human women. Only sociopathic vampires do. They revel in the pleasure and violence of it all. Sex and blood at the same time.” 

Alina’s stomach rolled and she looked away, thinking of her mother. A human woman who had gotten caught up with a vampire, never consenting to her awful fate. 

Aleksander sighed, as if noticing her unease. 

“I apologize, Alina. I shouldn’t have said that. There are many Russian vampires– the most of any nationality, I believe. Your father could be a great many people. However, to impregnate a human…” he trailed off. “It’s unprecedented.” 

“It’s alright,” she murmured, finally. “I just don’t like to think of my mother being seduced by a vampire who left her to her death.” 

When her wine glass was empty, Aleksander swapped them so she had a full glass. 

“When were you born?” he asked as Alina took a sip of his wine. 

“I’m twenty-three.” 

His eyes widened in genuine surprise. 

“You’re very young.” 

She wondered how old he was. 

“I was fully grown after seven years. I matured quickly. Far quicker than a human child. I’ve been like this,” she said gesturing to herself, “for fourteen years.” 

She looked like her age. Like a woman in her early-twenties. At the pinnacle of her youth and beauty. And her body showed no signs of changing, of growing older which made Alina think she was most likely going to live forever. 

“Incredible,” he murmured. “You are… incredible, Alina.” 

She shook her head. 

“I haven’t done anything to warrant your awe, Aleksander.” 

He just smiled in that secretive way of his. 

They sat in compatible silence for a couple of minutes. Alina had so many questions for him, but didn’t know where to start. She opened her purse and dug out a cigarette before lighting it. She took a drag, not for the hit of nicotine, it did nothing to her, but for something to do. She tapped the ashes into the ceramic ashtray. 

“How long were you outside my flat for?” she asked, suddenly. 

Aleksander smiled. 

“All day.”

“Really?” Alina asked, eyes wide. “Didn’t you get bored of waiting for me?”

Aleksander chuckled in response. 

“No, a mere few hours go by in a blink for me. Sometimes days feel like seconds. I was prepared to wait as long as it took for you to come back to your flat.” 

Alina understood to a certain extent. Sometimes days would blur together and she'd later realize that weeks had gone by. 

“What are you thinking?” he asked abruptly, leaning forward in interest. 

“I… what?” she asked. 

What kind of a question was that?

“You look contemplative. I’m curious.” 

Alina hesitated but answered. 

“I’m thinking… that I have a lot of questions to ask you, Aleksander. About the vampire world. How long are you in Paris for?” 

“I will be here for… the foreseeable future,” he said with a loaded look. 

Alina nodded and bit her lip. 

“Can I see you again?” she asked, tentatively.

Fuck, that sounds like I’m asking him on a date, she thought. She continued in a rush. 

“I feel a bit overwhelmed right now but… there's so much I want to know. So many things I want to ask you.” 

Aleksander smiled softly. 

“Of course, Alina. I’ll tell you anything and everything you wish to know.” 

Alina breathed out a sigh of relief, not realizing how afraid she was that he would just disappear. She’d been so afraid of talking to him earlier, and now she couldn’t seem to stop. 

“Thank you,” she said, sincerely. “I usually go on a walk on Saturday morning. Maybe we could talk then if you’re available?” 

He nodded genially. 

“Of course, Alina. Where would you like to meet?” 

“I like the Jardin des Tuileries,” she said blushing. “I know it’s touristy, but I love it this time of year. The trees are just starting to change.” 

A fond, indulgent smile made its way to Aleksander’s face. 

“Of course, Alina. That sounds perfect.” 

“I should go,” she said, dropping the butt of her cigarette into the ashtray and standing up. Aleksander stood up with her. 

“Until next time, Alina. I look forward to Saturday.” 

She nodded. 

“Me too. Bonne nuit, Aleksander.” 

As Alina turned to walk back down the street to her flat, she knew that if she turned around, Aleksander would be watching her. Even now, she could feel the heat of his gaze on her back. 

The week seemed to drag by. 

Alina hadn’t wanted to seem overeager to see Aleksander again, so she suggested Saturday, but that meant that she spent the whole week thinking of questions to ask him. 

Alina worked for a few hours on her freelance gigs, translating boring technical copy from French to English, Italian, German and Spanish, even some to Mandarin and Cantonese, which was the source of her comfortable income. She picked up her pig’s blood from the butcher. Went to the library. Wrote her essay about actresses in sixteenth-century Italy. Did her laundry and painted her toenails. She cleaned her bedroom, then her bathroom and finally her living room. Bought some cheese. Ate it. Reorganized her walk-in closet. Completed the rest of her assignments for the next two weeks. 

And that was just Tuesday. 

When Saturday morning finally rolled around, Alina practically sprung from her bed. She hadn’t been able to sleep the night before. Instead, spending hours trying to sleep to little avail. She’d finally given up, deciding to read until dawn broke. 

The weather was turning. One look out of her balcony to see grey skies meant that she was dressing for cooler weather, not that it made a difference to her. She always felt pleasantly warm no matter the season or weather. 

Alina dressed in sheer black tights and a black mini skirt that brushed the tops of her thighs. She pulled on a black and white striped sweater and zipped up her tall, black heeled boots. Styled her hair into a half-ponytail, black velvet ribbon tied in a bow. 

She looked in the oblong, ornate gold-wrought mirror that leaned against the corner of her bedroom wall. 

Objectively, she knew she was very striking. 

Silvery-blonde hair that fell to her waist in a silky waterfall. Clear, bright skin with a natural blush. A petite, straight nose. High cheekbones. A full pink mouth. Her espresso-brown eyes tilted slightly upwards, indicating a hint of non-european descent framed by impossibly long lashes. 

And yet, Alina couldn’t help but wonder how she compared to fully vampire females. For the first time in her life, Alina felt self-conscious. She was more beautiful than any human woman, but how did she fit in on the hierarchy?

She sighed before banishing those thoughts from her mind. What did it matter what Aleksander thought of her, anyways? 

She grabbed her vintage Coach shoulder bag that she had found online for a steal and locked her door before flitting down four flights of stairs to the lobby of her little building. She opened the large wooden door to the street and made her way to the metro. 

It was early, barely eight in the morning, so few people were out yet and Alina basked in the emptiness of the streets. 

Her train carriage was empty and she got off at Concorde before leisurely entering the garden. 

Alina wasn’t sure what it was, possibly the charming chartreuse metal chairs, pretty fountains, marble statues, or changing leaves, or maybe it was just the energy, but Alina loved how vibrant the Jardin des Tuileries was. Situated in the heart of the city, next to the Louvre and along the Seine, it just seemed to burst with life. Young people, old people, toddlers and babies, Parisians and tourists, everyone seemed to enjoy the green space and Alina was no exception. 

She inhaled deeply, trying to catch a hint of Aleksander. 

They hadn’t agreed on a time, but Alina was an early riser and she had just assumed Aleksander was too for whatever reason. 

It was there, on the breeze, a hint of his scent. Her eyelids fluttered. 

She followed it. 

Under a green-gold tree, looking really too handsome to be fair, Aleksander sat reading Le Parisien. Alina tried to quell the butterflies in her stomach as she approached him. She’d never felt so nervous in all her life. 

“Good morning, Alina,” he greeted, looking up at her approach. He threw the newspaper to the side as if it held no more value to him. 

He was dressed less formally than he had been on Monday. Instead of wearing a suit, he was in dark trousers and a navy blue sweater. He looked like a handsome professor– and Alina wished to be in his class. 

“Hello, Aleksander. How was the rest of your week?” 

She mentally cringed. What a mundane question to ask a very old vampire! 

A faint hint of a smile played on his lips. 

“It went very well, thank you. And yours?” 

“Productive,” she said as she sat down on the green chair placed beside his and crossed her legs, skirt riding up high on her thighs. 

“What is it that you study, may I ask?” 

Alina raised an eyebrow at him. 

“How do you know that I’m a student?” 

“Well, naturally I followed you to your university on Monday,” he said with a smile. 

“Why am I not surprised?” she said while shooting him a dark look. “I’m studying Early Modern History with a focus on the French Renaissance.” 

“Ah, now that is a fascinating subject indeed. I remember those days fondly,” he said wistfully while leaning back in his chair. The slight breeze rustled his dark locks. “Tell me, are they still making students read Burkhardt?” 

Alina practically choked. 

“You– you… I’m sorry, did you just say that you remember the Renaissance?” 

Aleksander’s eyes sparkled at her obvious shock. 

“Yes, malyshka. I was alive then.” 

“How old are you?” she couldn’t help but ask. 

He tisked. 

“Now, now, Alina. You should know that that’s not a very polite question to ask a vampire you’ve just met.” 

“You asked me how old I was on Monday, Aleksander, so, please, spare me the lecture,” she said, flipping pale locks over her shoulder. 

He laughed and it was a beautiful sound. Rich like dark chocolate and cabernet. His dark eyes studied her. 

“All in good time, Alina. All in good time.”

“How many vampires are there?” Alina asked, as they walked along the wide sidewalk of Quai Francois Mitterand, passing the opulent architecture of the Louvre as they went. 

Aleksander hummed in thought. 

“It’s nearly impossible to say. Hundreds, possibly a thousand, I’d guess.” 

“That few?” 

That seemed so strange to Alina. There were billions of humans, surely there would be more vampires than a thousand. But of course, humans didn’t know of their existence so the population must be relatively small. 

“Most vampires are nomadic. Solitary. That means that they go from place to place, never settling, finding new cities and territories to hunt in. It’s possible that there are more nomads than I think. It's the covens that are easier to keep track of.” 

“Covens?” she asked. 

“Yes. Some vampires choose to travel together, or even settle together, in groups. On one hand, it’s safer to live with other vampires, more vampires mean more protection, but on the other hand, the larger a coven gets, the more attention they receive from other vampires. They can be targeted and even destroyed.” 

Alina looked to Aleksander, not quite understanding. 

“Why would covens target other covens? Can’t vampires live peacefully?” 

Aleksander chuckled. 

“Yes, many can. But vampires target each other for the same reasons that humans do. It’s usually about territory, resources, power, jealousy or fear.” 

It made sense, she supposed. Conflict was a part of each species, it was the nature of the animal kingdom. The top predators would be no different. 

Alina spotted a small coffee stand on the pavement just ahead of them. 

“Do you mind?” she asked Aleksander, gesturing to the stall. 

“Not at all,” he replied easily. 

Alina ordered a double espresso from the old Frenchman with a white mustache who sat behind the little counter. He fussed over Alina, calling her beautiful, a winter rose in autumn and Alina smiled at his sweet, yet overabundant praise. 

When he passed her the small paper cup of coffee and Alina reached for her purse, Aleksander was already pressing a note into the man’s hand. The old man’s eyes widened first in surprise, then fear, his crow’s feet crinkling, and started to protest. 

But Aleksander wouldn’t hear of it and backed away. 

“Merci beaucoup,” Alina said, smiling to the man before they resumed their stroll. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said looking at the handsome man beside her. 

“I am well aware,” was all he said, looking at her. 

Alina blushed. 

“Well, thank you.” 

She took a sip of the espresso. 

“I never drank coffee as a human,” he admitted, eyeing her paper cup. “Only tea.” 

“You used to be human?” Alina asked, eyebrows raised. “You weren’t born like this?” she gestured to him. 

Aleksander chuckled. 

“No, Alina. Vampires are made, not born. Although, I suppose you are the exception.” 

Alina bit her lip. Again, she wondered how old he was. 

“What was your human life like?” 

Aleksander paused. 

“I don’t remember much. After I was turned, my human memories were… fuzzy.” 

“And… how does someone become a vampire?” she whispered, intrigued. 

“It’s simple really,” Aleksander started, “it only takes a bite for the change to occur.”

“Really?” she asked, eyes wide. 

“Mhh,” he confirmed. “Although, once you’ve taken a bite, it's incredibly difficult not to kill the human. It takes remarkable self-control. That is, perhaps, why there aren’t so many vampires.” 

“Have you ever changed anyone?” she couldn’t help but ask. 

Aleksander laughed again. 

“You’re so inquisitive. Yes, Alina. I created a coven of my own.” 

Shock rippled through Alina. 

“Really?” 

He raised his eyebrows. 

“Is that so surprising, Alinochka?” 

She blushed at the nickname. 

“Please don’t take this the wrong way Aleksander, but you seem like the solitary type.” 

At that, he laughed. 

“You’re not wrong, Alina. I am an introvert. I value my alone time. But a long, long time ago I got lonely and I created a companion. A brother, of sorts. The coven grew from there.” 

Something uncomfortable settled in Alina’s chest. 

So he wasn’t really alone, not in the same way she was. 

“Why aren’t you with them now, then?” she asked, softly.  

He sighed. 

“That, malyshka, is complicated. I leave them every few decades or so, for a time. Being around all of them can be… difficult.” 

Alina nodded, as if she understood. 

“Alone time isn’t too bad,” she agreed. “I’ve gotten rather good at it, actually. Being alone. Although it must be nice to have companions that understand you. That are like you,” she said. 

When she looked at Aleksander he was staring at her. 

She blushed. 

“Thank you for answering all my questions, Aleksander,” she continued. “For the first time in my life, I’m finally finding out about the vampire world. I always felt like a piece of me was missing, by not knowing. I appreciate it more than you can know.” 

He stood as still as a statue. 

Finally, he said, 

“You’re very welcome Alina.” 

Alina smiled softly and they continued to walk. 

It was strange, she realized. Walking along the Paris streets with a man. Her whole life she’d only really had meaningful conversation and companionship with women. Sure, she’d had male professors and classmates but she never really tried to get to know them or talk to them. Plenty of men showed interest in her, sure, but relationships with humans were difficult and complicated, with exception to her aunt. 

Sometimes Alina got jealous of the other Parisian girls who walked arm in arm with their boyfriends, looking happy and in their own world. Alina often wished she had a companion like in the romance books she read. Someone she could be herself with– someone who would love her unconditionally and her the same. 

As they walked along the pavement, Alina idly wondered what they looked like to the outside world. Both her and Aleksander were unnaturally beautiful, they caused many people to stare, and she wondered if people thought they were lovers. 

The thought caused her to blush– although she wasn’t mad about it. 

Somehow they wandered into Alina’s favorite museum. 

Nestled into the third arrondissement, Le Musée Carnavalet stood out like a Light Academia dream. Alina loved the tea-stained colored stones of the intricate seventeenth century châteaus and the little green courtyards planted within. Specializing in the history of the city, from prehistoric to the belle epoque in the nineteenth century, the museum was a bit quieter and more relaxed than the Louvre, d’Orsay and l’Orangerie. 

She loved it all but her absolute favorite floor was the Medieval and Renaissance one. She loved the explosion of colors in the period. The decadence of gold and the intricate details. The artistry and craftsmanship was just divine. As they walked through the white plaster archway, her heels clicking on the dark wood, Alina couldn’t help but ask another question. 

“So where were you during the Renaissance?” 

Aleksander strolled through the gallery casually, as if he’d been there a hundred times. Who knew, maybe he had. 

“Italy, of course. It was the place to be,” he said with a quirk of his lips. “Although, I traveled all throughout Europe during those centuries.”

“You were in Italy? During the Renaissance? Oh, please tell me what it was like!” she begged as they passed a spectacular golden trunk from the thirteenth-century. 

Aleksander laughed. 

“So eager for knowledge, moya sladkaya. I’ll tell you anything that you want to know.” 

Alina shook her head in disbelief. 

“I have so many questions. Where in Italy? Which city-state?” 

“The Duchy of Milan first, then Florence and Venice. Oh, how Venice has fallen since. If you could’ve seen it back then Alina,” he said with a regretful sigh. “It felt like the center of Europe. So much commerce, so many foreigners. Carnavale, now that was incredible. So many feasts and costumes and performances. Witnessing commedia dell’arte in Piazza San Marco from the Adreini family, now that was theatre.” 

Alina was entranced. 

“Courtesans sat high up in ornate windows wearing yellow veils. Drunkards falling into the canals. Church bells ringing at all hours of the day. Politics, religion, murder and scandal. Hunting was so easy back then.” 

“It sounds incredible,” Alina murmured. “What did it smell like back then? I’ve always been so curious.”

Aleksander laughed. 

“You are so curious, Alina,” he said with amusement in his dark eyes. “Venice smelled atrocious. Like body odor, sex, rotten fish, urine and incense to cover the smell of plague.” 

Alina wrinkled her nose. 

He nodded. “Exactly. I only stayed there for a few years before moving on. Despite the odors, it was a fascinating era to witness. Although, I don’t miss wearing the tights.” 

Alina giggled. 

Now, that was a sight she couldn’t imagine. Aleksander in tights. 

They were walking past a portrait of Catherine de Médicis in a gilded golden frame when Aleksander growled. Alina’s eyes instantly flew to him only to see him glaring at a group of three young men who stood a few feet behind them. They were staring at Alina but at Aleksander’s dark stare, murderous really, all three fled from the room, tripping over their own feet, in fear. 

“Aleksander,” she said, affronted. She looked around to make sure that no one else had noticed that bizarre exchange. “What are you doing? Those boys weren’t doing anything.” 

He growled again, but it wasn’t directed towards her. His eyes were on the doorway the boys had fled through. 

“You don’t know the vile things they were–” he cut himself off, taking a deep breath. The gesture was strangely human. “I don’t like how they were looking at you.” 

Alina snorted. 

“News flash, Aleks. Human men are horny. They’ll look at anything that can move. I appreciate you defending my honor but I can take care of myself.”

It was true. Living in Paris, some men thought they could take advantage of Alina, especially at night when she was alone. Little did they know that she was a born hunter. She’d broken at least five hands during her time in the city. It made her so angry because she knew that other women weren’t like her– not as strong and unbreakable. She did her best to intervene whenever she saw problematic behavior from men. 

Aleksander studied her. 

“Of that I’m confident, Alina. And yet, it doesn’t mean that their blatant disrespect of you should be tolerated.” 

Alina’s eyes narrowed. 

“And just how do you know they were disrespecting me? They didn’t say anything.” 

“Oh Alina,” Aleksander said, moving into her personal space, eyes black. “They didn’t need to. I can tell.” 

She raised an eyebrow at him, but he was already moving along to the next portrait. 

They walked around the city until dark. 

After the museum, they had walked through the Bastille before crossing the Seine and wandering through the Latin Quarter. They sat by the Pantheon and talked before going to the Jardin du Luxembourg. They sat by the fountains for a while watching the excited kids play with the sailboats before meandering towards Saint-Germain, pausing so that Alina could get a pastry from Tapisserie.

Watched as the vintage street lamps lit up with the setting sun. 

Alina was surprised, but also… wasn’t. 

Talking to Aleksander was easy, almost too easy. He answered her questions, asking ones of his own. Seeming genuinely curious to learn more about her. Neither one of them seemed tired of each other’s company. 

He told her about some of his travels, about his favorite places. Russia, he had answered easily when she’d asked. Even after all these years, it’s still home. 

In return, she told him of her childhood. Of growing up in a Catholic convent with only women devoted to God. Of how sheltered she was until she moved to Paris seven years ago. About her tolerance of human food, because blood was not readily available to her and because her Aunt insisted on a human diet to not arouse suspicion about her nature. 

“Do you believe in God?” he asked her, boldly. 

“Yes,” she answered, slightly taken aback by his question. “I wouldn’t say that I’m extremely religious despite growing up in a convent,” she explained. “I don’t go to Mass anymore but I do believe in God.” 

“Why?” he pushed. “Surely, you see how we don’t fit into the laws of nature. See how flawed religious orders can be.” 

Alina glanced up at Aleksander. His eyes were black and she already knew that he disagreed with her. Knew that he didn’t believe in anything.

 The golden crucifix that hung under her sweater felt heavy. 

“Because when my mother was pregnant with me, when she was growing at an unnatural speed, she went to go find her twin sister, my Aunt Ana, at the convent she’d recently dedicated herself to. The nuns cared for my mother while she was pregnant but were fearful of what I would be. Whispered that my mother had laid with the Devil and would bore a demon. The nuns, including my Aunt Ana, planned to destroy me. Were going to throw me in the river and drown me after my birth.”

She heard Aleksander’s inhale, an unusually human sound coming from him. 

“I killed my mother. Tore myself out of her womb with my teeth. There was blood everywhere. There was screaming. I remember it, even as a newborn baby. My mother had only been able to hold me for a moment before she died. Her last word was my name, Alina. It was carnage…. I remember I was immediately wrapped in a baby blanket. My Aunt took me outside. She was crying, and I was silent– just watching. She’d just lost her only sister. Her only family because my grandparents had died some years prior. She carried me almost a mile to the nearest stream. Was going to throw me in.” 

Alina sighed. 

“What happened?” Aleksander asked, darkly. Lowly. Hung on every word she uttered. 

“She looked at me,” Alina whispered, lost in her memories. “Before she was about to throw me in, she just looked at me. Said that I couldn’t be a demon because I had the face of an angel. Because I looked like my mother. She brought me back to the convent. The others beheld me. Instead of hate and fear, they looked at me and decided to love me. Raise me. If that’s not divine intervention, Aleksander then I don’t know what is.” 

The two were silent for a moment. Finally, Aleksander spoke. 

“I’m glad your Aunt changed her mind.”

Alina giggled and suddenly the tension was broken. 

“Me too. She obviously had no idea that throwing me in a river wouldn’t have killed me but I’m so lucky to have been raised by her.” 

Alina looked up at Aleksander and found that he was staring at her intensely. 

She didn’t want to say goodbye and that scared her. She should have wanted to leave, after spending all day with him, but she didn’t. 

In fact, Alina felt sad to say goodnight. 

As they stood underneath the twinkling lights of the Eiffel Tower, Alina thought that Aleksander looked like an avenging angel. 

“I’ve had a wonderful time today,” she said, looking up at him through her lashes. “Thank you for taking the time to talk to me, Aleksander.” 

“The pleasure was all mine, Alina,” he said, deeply. Seriously. 

She blushed. 

Uncertainty, wrapped around them like a cocoon. Was this a one time thing? Would they meet again? Alina wasn’t sure what she would do if Aleksander wanted nothing more to do with her. 

Around them, humans continued on obliviously. 

A group of young people erupted into laughter, responding to something their friend had said, cigarette smoke hazy against their silhouettes. 

Another group of friends huddled together, drinking cheap white wine from a shared bottle. 

A pair of young men skateboarded by in baggy jeans and hoodies, loud French rap following them as they went. 

A pair of lovers kissed under the city’s most iconic landmark, murmuring to each other in Spanish.

“When can I see you again?” Aleksander said, lowly. He eyed her unabashedly. 

Alina blinked up at him and smiled. 

“I’m free tomorrow.” 

A smile ghosted on his lips. 

He stepped close to her– closer than he had ever been before. His scent washed over her like a soothing balm. Alina watched with rapt attention as he lifted a pale hand to her cheek. She froze as he brushed a cool knuckle down her left cheekbone. 

“So warm,” he murmured to himself, entranced. He dropped his hand. 

“Until tomorrow, then.” 

And with that, he was gone. 

Chapter Text

October 

Paris 

As the weeks flew by, it was clear that autumn had firmly arrived in the city. The days grew colder and shorter and the nights longer; Parisians traded their sweaters for coats and with each passing day, there were fewer and fewer tourists. Sunny days were few and far in between and the golden-green leaves turned various shades of amber and started to drop off trees. 

It was a beautiful, yet fragile time of year. A time of transitions, of endings and new beginnings. 

And like the seasons, Alina and Aleksander embarked on their own beginning. 

Since the day they spent wandering the city from dawn till dusk, they’d seen each other almost every day. What had started as Alina’s curiosity into her vampiric heritage had evolved into a genuine desire to spend time with Aleksander. He was so fascinating, having lived through so much. But beyond being interesting, Alina found him to be so charismatic. She hung onto every word he said, oftentimes disagreeing with some of his opinions or pessimism. It came with age, he told her. 

They went on long walks. Went to museums, markets and parks. Sat along the Seine and talked until sunrise. 

A week or so after their very first meeting, Alina invited Aleksander into her flat for the first time. It was a bold move considering that the weather forecast for the day showed a crisp cold day partnered with golden sunlight. Alina was basically committing to having Aleksander spend all day at her flat if the forecast was correct. She hated to admit it but she was nervous. 

Alina loved her little attic flat. It was small, but the perfect size for one person with its open kitchen and living room floor plan. Alina’s bedroom was large enough for a queen sized bed and the bathroom even had black and white tiles and a sizable tub. 

Alina took pride in her flat. She’d spent the last few years curating it into a visually appealing, yet cozy space. It was her safe haven, where she retreated to when it was bright and sunny out, and having Aleksander here was… intimate. It made Alina feel vulnerable because her flat was a window into her own self. 

He arrived early, at around 8am after being buzzed up from Alina, carrying a bouquet of blush-colored peonies in one hand (which she had told him a few days prior were her favorite) and a double espresso in the other. She blinked like an owl at the gifts before accepting them with a shy smile. 

Aleksander inspected her flat thoroughly, studying her rosewood parquet flooring, crown molding, antique coffee table covered with a stack of coffee table books and candles, leather chair and large leafy green monstera plant. He even studied her wallpaper, sage green silk imported from Suzhou with a cherry blossom and crane motif that Alina had bought on an expensive whim. But more than anything else, Aleksander seemed to be fascinated with her multiple floor-to-ceiling built-in bookshelves. 

Perhaps her books were the most telling objects in her flat about her. She loved to read, and spent many hours doing so. Reading was a form of escapism for Alina. For instance, she’d never experienced romantic love, or even true passion, so she read many books about it, trying to understand. She read coming-of-age books, too. About mother-daughter relationships. Books about loss. Books about self-acceptance. Books about travel and adventure.

She watched somewhat nervously from the couch as he studied her titles. She took a sip of the still hot espresso from its black plastic lid. 

“How are these organized?” Aleksander asked, not taking his eyes away from the colorful spines of every shape and size imaginable.

“Categorically, then alphabetically.” 

Alina watched with rapt attention as he looked over her French shelves. Some of Alina’s favorites were Madame Bovary, The Count of Monte Cristo, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, The Second Sex, In Search of Lost Time, Journey to the Center of the Earth, Memoirs of Hadrian and Bonjour Tristesse. She loved French literature, she found it poetic and evocative, although admittedly her most favored favorite was Le Petit Prince which her Aunt Ana had read to her as a child. Alina had always related to the theme of loneliness. 

She laughed when Aleksander snorted at her extensive Austen and Brönte collection nestled into the British shelves. In fact, most of her English lit section was devoted to cottage-core girl romance with some works from Shakespeare, Byron, du Marier and Wilde thrown in for good measure. Pride and Prejudice and Jane Eyre were especially battered from her Christmas re-reads. 

“I will never understand women’s fascination with these novels,” he murmured. “Totally overrated.” Alina threw one of her fluffy pink slippers at him. He caught it without taking his eyes off the books.

“Perhaps that’s because you’re not a woman and have never faced unrealistic expectations from society?” she asked, eyebrow raised and Aleksander chuckled in concession. 

She watched curiously as Aleksander reached her Chinese books. Some were written in Mandarin, others in Cantonese, but her favorites were Dream of the Red Chamber, Romance of the Three Kingdoms, Cold Nights and Love in a Fallen City. 

Aleksander pulled out Death of a Red Heroine from the shelf. 

“I enjoyed this book,” he said, thumbing through the pages.

Alina’s eyebrows shot upwards. 

“You’ve read it?” she asked, incredulously. 

He looked at her. 

“Yes. Does that surprise you?” 

Alina shrugged. 

“Most westerners don’t bother with Chinese literature,” she said, honestly. 

Aleksander hummed. 

“True, although I have been alive for a very long time. If I only read European-literature, I would be very, very bored.” 

“Do you read Mandarin?” she asked him, nibbling on her bottom lip.

He raised an eyebrow. 

“Yes,” he said in perfect, native sounding Mandarin. “And I speak it too.”

Alina blinked and Aleksander chuckled. 

“Malyshka, I am fluent in dozens of languages– especially ones that billions of people speak.” 

Alina blushed. 

“Sorry,” she apologized. “I’m just surprised.” 

Alina herself spoke many languages. Learning foreign tongues was easy for her. All it took was reading a dictionary and listening to some films and TV for grammar and pronunciation before Alina felt comfortable to have conversations. She was fluent in French, English, Mandarin, Cantonese, Italian, Spanish and German. Next on her list were Portuguese and Romanian, to round out the Romance languages. Although, she was beginning to have a keen interest in the Russian language. 

Alina shouldn’t have been surprised that Aleksander would be fluent in many languages too. But she’d just never met anyone else who had a mind like hers. 

“When did you learn Mandarin?” he asked, putting the book back on the shelf. 

Alina picked at her manicure. She mentally added redo nails to her to-do list for the next day. 

“My Aunt Ana taught it to me when I was a child. It was my third language after French and English. My grandmother, Annchi, was Chinese. She immigrated to France from Shanghai when she was in her twenties before she met my grandfather Antoine. She taught my mother and my aunt Chinese, and after my mother died, Aunt Ana wanted me to have that piece of my heritage too.”

Aleksander’s eyes ran over Alina’s form, studying her. 

“I know,” she said in fake flippancy in response to his gaze. “I don’t look very Chinese. My Aunt Ana always says I look exactly like my mother but must have my father’s coloring.” She played with a silver-strand. “I figure he must have this hair color. No one on my mother’s side of the family was blonde, let alone platinum. You should see the reaction I get when I go into a Chinese restaurant and they realize I speak Mandarin. They’re absolutely shocked,” she said, somewhat bitterly. 

The truth was that Alina had a complicated relationship with her Chinese heritage. Even though Alina was a quarter Chinese ethnically, she sometimes felt like she couldn’t claim the heritage because she didn’t look ‘traditionally’ Chinese and wasn’t a part of a greater Chinese community. She spoke the language, loved Chinese culture and stories, enjoyed spicy Chinese foods that tasted good to her immortal palette– and yet, she still felt like an imposter. She hadn’t been to China, her ties to the culture were tenuous at best and well, Alina was French. 

In the first year that Alina had moved to Paris, she had attended university. In one of her undergraduate history classes, there was a group of foreign exchange students from Beijing. Alina, still naive back then about making human friends, had greeted the girls in perfect Mandarin and introduced herself. The three girls were absolutely shocked that Alina could speak Chinese. When one of the girls had asked her why she could speak Chinese, Alina explained to them that she was Chinese too. The girls had looked at each other and giggled, shaking their heads at her blonde hair. “No, no. You’re not Chinese” they had said so matter-of-factly. Alina had never felt so embarrassed in her life. 

Aleksander stared at Alina for a long moment. Finally, he spoke. 

“Humans care far too much about physical looks when identity is concerned. Historically, anyone who looks slightly different than what others believe to be ‘stereotypical’ is immediately the source of conversation,” he said, calmly. “When you’ve seen borders  redrawn and countries fall like I have, you’ll realize none of that matters.”

Alina swallowed. She hated that she felt validated by Aleksander’s words, but because he had lived so long, Alina felt like his opinions carried weight. 

Aleksander went back to studying her bookshelves and Alina watched as he looked over her shelves classified as “Favorites” like Americanah, Yellowface, The Secret History, The Song of Achilles, The Bell Jar, Normal People, Babel, Crying at H Mart, Dune, Before the Coffee Gets Cold, Butter, The Da Vinci Code, Call Me By Your Name and Pachinko. 

And she laughed out loud when he finally got to her large Gothic Horror section with its very own vampire shelf full of classics like Dracula, Interview with a Vampire, Carmilla, The Gilda Stories, The Pale Lady, The Historian, Vampire Diaries and Fledgling.  

“Oh god,” he complained, looking properly annoyed. “These books are all atrocious.” 

“These were the only source materials I had to go on!” she disagreed. “And actually, some of them aren’t too far off. I particularly like Rice and Stoker’s interpretations of vampires.” 

He raised his brows. 

“Really? What about the garlic, crucifixes and stakes?” 

“Those are obviously untrue,” she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder, “but the drinking human blood, not-being-able-to-go-in-the-sunlight and whole ‘super pale complexion’ checks out. Not to mention the tall, dark-haired brooding stranger troupe,” she said, raising an eyebrow at him. 

He snorted and moved closer to her. 

“You have a very nice collection of books Alina,” he began and Alina internally felt quite satisfied at his praise. “However there is one glaring issue.”

“And what’s that?” she asked, crossing her arms and getting ready for another argument. 

“Your lack of Russian literature is both astounding and offensive.”

“I have Lolita and Anna Karenina,” she argued. 

“Alinochka, there is so much more to be discovered,” he argued, suddenly passionate. “Some of the very best novels ever written are Russian. No one encapsulates and comments upon human nature and the struggle of survival better than Dostoevsky, Turgenev, Tolstoy, Pasternak, Petrushevskaya, Gogol and Tolstaya, only to name a few.” 

Alina blinked. 

“Are those all just a bunch of old, white Russian dudes?” 

Aleksander tutted. 

“Petrushevskaya and Tolstaya are women, milaya. After all, Russian women have always endured extreme hardships in a very difficult and complex society. More so than most men.” 

Alina bit her lip. 

“I’ll give them a try,” she conceded. “I’d like to have a better understanding of Russian culture, anyways.” 

He raised his eyebrows at her. 

“You know,” she explained, blushing. “Because my father’s supposedly Russian.” Definitely not because of you, she thought. “Because it’s a part of my heritage.” 

“Of course, how could I forget, moya kukolka,” he said, smirking. 

“Maybe I’ll even learn Russian so that I can finally understand what you’re saying,” she said, with an arched brow. 

His smirk grew into a genuine smile. He took a seat in the leather chair next to her, looking utterly relaxed. 

“You should. Russian is the most beautiful language in the world.” 

“No!” Alina cried, outraged. “French is by far the most beautiful language. Russian is so…” she trailed off, making some kind of aggressive hand gesture to portray what she meant, “intense.” 

“Yes, it is,” he agreed, leaning forward in the chair. His amber eyes sparkled with seriousness. “It’s a language of survival and hardship. Of resilience. It reflects the Russian identity of constantly wanting something better for your homeland and people but inevitably facing disappointment.” 

Alina shifted so that she sat sidesaddle, little skirt riding up her thighs and feet tucked beneath her on the hunter green velvet couch, her cashmere knee socks feeling so pleasant against her bare legs. 

“Aleksander, ” she implored after a moment. “Tell me, how old are you really? What have you lived through to make you so… cynical?” 

He sighed deeply and leaned back. The breeze from the open balcony doors made the chiffon curtains and his thick dark brown locks rustle. Through the open doors Alina could see the imposing silhouette of Sacre-Coeur. 

“I’ve lived through the birth and fall of a nation. The end of a dynasty, and the beginning of a revolution. Tsars and radicals, saints and empresses, I’ve seen it all.” 

Alina bit her lip as he began to speak. It was almost like he was entering a trance, the way he was remembering the past.  

“I was born a very long time ago,” he started. “To a noble family in Kievan Rus. I was an eldest son, a bogatyr, a warrior-prince tasked with protecting my country from invaders. I fought for my King in wars against the Turks and Croats under the new religion of Christianity. I killed thousands of men in the name of my King and God.” 

Aleksander paused, remembering. “I remember thinking that God had chosen me to protect my people. Chosen me to kill our enemies and spread his religion. I won respect, power, riches and glory. A Byzantine priest blessed me in front of crowds. I became my King's right hand. His most trusted general, although I was still green. Back then, we spoke our own language, an early form of Russian, but also Old Norse in our elite circle after the first Rus’ who came from Scandinavia.” 

He paused again, lost in thought.

“I had just been betrothed to one of my King’s many daughters when it happened. I was traveling back to Kiev from the front. I was going to visit my mother who was sick. I traveled with only a few men when we were attacked. My men and horses were ripped apart by something that moved faster than a mortal man. It was so snowy, it was hard to see. At first I thought it was a demon– there was a stunningly handsome man standing before me with blood red eyes. He spoke to me in a foreign tongue, before smiling at me.” 

Aleksander paused. 

“That is the last memory I have of my human life. When I woke, I was something else entirely. Stronger, faster and bloodthirsty. I slaughtered a whole village before I knew what had even happened. Killing women and elderly. Even children.” 

If Alina had been fully human, she would’ve shuddered. 

“Why did that vampire change you?” she whispered, tentative to break his reverie. “Why attack you that night?”

“He was creating warriors. To rid himself of his vampire enemies. He knew of my reputation and wanted me for his ranks. I fought for him for many years, his most lethal soldier.” 

“What happened to him?” Alina couldn’t help but ask. 

“He got what was coming to him,” Aleksander said, a shadow passing over his face. “I destroyed Ilya long ago and left that life behind. I was no one’s soldier.” 

Alina sat back, as her mind quickly processed. 

While she had been growing up at the convent, there had been many books in the library. Alina remembered sitting in the old grey-stoned room, reading one thick tomb about early medieval history under a mullioned window. It mentioned Kievan Rus briefly, more concerned about Anglo-Saxons, Vikings and Normans. She recalled that the early Russian state had unified and prospered between the ninth and thirteenth centuries. And Aleksander had mentioned the introduction of Christianity to Russia….

“What was the name of your King?” she whispered, almost afraid to know the answer. 

“Vladimir the Great.” 

Alina blinked. 

“Oh my god, you are old,” she said, shocked. “Like a thousand years old, old. Oh god. You could be my great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, grandfather.” 

Aleksander’s eyes darkened. 

“Careful, Alina,” he warned. 

“I had no idea I was spending time with a fossil, ” she continued, tossing her strands over her shoulder. 

Aleksander pounced and she gasped as she was suddenly pinned to the couch. He loomed over her like a dark angel, her slender wrists clasped in his large hands, his thighs caging in her legs. 

She blushed. 

“I would be very careful about who I was calling old if I was you, Alinochka. I have destroyed creatures for far less.” 

His words were fearsome but there was a glitter in his dark eyes. 

“I take it back, Aleks. I think you look really good for your age,” Alina said, breathlessly. Her heartbeat sped up. 

Aleksander’s eyes glanced at her parted lips. 

She felt all out of sorts. 

Excitement coursed through her at having him so close. He smelled divine.

Like home. 

After a moment, he let go of her wrists and sat up. 

Alina reluctantly followed. 

“Thank you for telling me,” she said after a loaded moment. They were now sat close together on the couch, practically thigh to thigh. 

“I told you Alina, I’ll tell you everything and anything you want to know from me,” he said, eyes dark and intense. 

“What happened after that?” she asked, “after you were changed?” 

Aleksander chuckled. 

“A great many things, Alina.” 

A silence settled over them and Alina bit her lip in thought. 

Then, the first tendrils of morning sunlight streamed through her windows, bathing her flat in a golden hue. Before her, Aleksander  glittered. She tilted her head to watch. He was gorgeous. 

After a moment she spoke. 

“I can tell that you love it fiercely,” she said. “Russia.” 

He sighed and looked down at her fondly. 

“I do. I am still a patriot at heart, I think. One of the human traits I carried with me into immortality.” 

“Why aren’t you in Russia now then? If you love it so much?” 

“I miss the Russia of the past,” he said. “Communism and dictatorship have changed my country. Paranoia is part of the culture now. Neighbors watch neighbors, strangers watch strangers… the Soviet era left its mark on Russia and there is always a sense of fear now when I go back. A sense of distrust.” 

“That’s a shame,” she murmured. “I’d like to visit one day. See the Red Square and the Winter Palace. The Soviet buildings. All of the history, old and new.” 

“I can imagine you there,” Aleksander said softly. “In Saint Petersburg, during the turn-of-the-century. Wrapped up in white fur, wearing elaborate gowns and dancing with officers in golden-gilded ballrooms. Arriving at parties in a horse-drawn sleigh.” 

Alina smiled as she imagined it, like one of those romantic period pieces that the BBC played. Like the television versions of War and Peace and Kurt Seyit and Sura. 

“That sounds lovely,” she murmured. 

He sighed, but in a contented way. 

“Come now Alina, show me your vinyl collection next. I thought I saw a stack of ABBA and we need to discuss your horrendous taste in music.” 

She growled and he laughed. 

The next day, after Alina came home from university, stacked in two even piles on her coffee table, were new additions to her bookshelves. War and Peace, Crime and Punishment, Doctor Zhivago, The Brothers Karamazov, Fathers and Sons, The Time: Night, Dead Souls, Pale Fire and The Slynx made up the colorful towers. Aleksander had bought the pricey Penguin classics, clearly noticing Alina’s penchant for the colorfully and quirky bound hardbacks. 

And sitting next to the books was the folded chocolate brown leather Celine coat that Alina had seen in the window of one of her favorite vintage stores with Aleksander the other day. 

“Go try it on,” he had urged her but she’d only shook her head when she’d seen the price tag. 

Alina bit her lip at the presents. 

No one had ever bought her anything before, apart from her aunt. And those gifts had usually been quite modest. So she wasn’t used to receiving gifts. It was an odd feeling. But also heady. Aleksander had thought of her. Gone to the bookstore and vintage store on his own, with her in mind. 

It’s too much, she’d texted him. He responded in a matter of moments. 

No Alina, it’s not nearly enough. 

It was the middle of October when Alina dragged Aleksander to the twentieth arrondissement with her one Sunday. Belleville was one of her favorite neighborhoods. It was on the eastern edge of the city and it was far quieter than the center. It was more residential, and it was nice to see where many true Parisians lived. 

They walked around the Pere Lachaise Cemetery with its large marble mausoleums for the infamous and rich Parisians like Édith Piaf and Oscar Wilde. It was so stunning this time of year, the orange and gold leaves littering the paths with an abundance of autumnal color. It also felt especially atmospheric, a bit spooky to be honest, and this was one of Alina’s favorite October weekend activities, the bitter chill stinging her blushing cheeks.

After, Alina insisted that they go to Les Puces de Montreuil flea market. 

“I’m looking for a rug,” she said to him as they walked. “And I’ll need help carrying it. It would be too suspicious for me to carry it by myself.” 

He just nodded, easily. “Of course, lisichka.” 

Clad in her favorite jeans, the ones that made her ass look spectacular, black Poléne sweater, flats and with her blonde hair twisted into a claw-clip and a tote bag on her shoulder, Alina meant business. There was no sun out today but Alina wore her cat-eye sunglasses anyway. 

Beside her, Aleksander looked like a model in his own casual jeans and thick olive green sweater. A vintage and very expensive looking watch adorned his wrist and it made Alina worry that the shop peddlers would try to take advantage of the fact that he was clearly well off. 

And Alina loved nothing more than getting a deal. In fact, a good portion of her clothes were vintage finds from little shops, markets and online sellers. She loved nothing more than finding vintage Dior, Chanel, Yves Saint Laurent, or Isabel Marant for a fraction of the cost. 

They entered the market and Alina led them through to the good stuff. Going past the tacky tourist stands and the random assortment of kitchen supplies and packs of socks, they entered the heart of the market which was home to a much better selection. There were vintage prints and maps, bergere chairs and dusty chandeliers, so much jewelry, scarves and porcelain dishware, vintage designer clothing that made Alina pause. 

She did have a weakness after all. 

She ran her fingers along a duck blue silk Hermès scarf and bit her lip. It was very nice and in good condition. This shade of blue would compliment her silver hair and brown eyes so well.

“How much is this?” she asked the old woman with crimson painted lips and silver hair piled in a bun and with a cigarette in her hand who sat in a wooden chair, watching Alina. 

“One hundred,” the little woman said. “It would look very good on you, cherie. Are you a model?” 

Alina couldn’t help the disbelieving “pff” that escaped her mouth at the price and was already shaking her head. 

“No, no, that's far too expensive, Madame. I’d give you maybe– Aleks, ” she hissed, as she watched Aleksander hand the woman a folded stack of euros. 

“Merci beaucoup,” the old lady chirped, smiling at Aleksander with wide eyes. She handed Alina the scarf without even looking at her. “Dry clean only, mademoiselle.” 

Alina glared at him as the woman went back to straightening her merchandise. 

“Aleksander, you paid far too much for that!” she said, chastising him. “And you didn’t need to pay for it, I have my own money.” 

Aleksander practically rolled his eyes at her, looking so relaxed. 

“Calm yourself, Alina. It’s a gift.” 

“You’ve already given me gifts,” she argued. 

“Yes, yes. And I don’t think this will be the last. Come Alina, I thought you wanted a rug?” he said, completely unperturbed by her tone. 

Alina shot him an annoyed look but internally she couldn’t stop the butterflies that settled in her stomach. 

“Fine,” she said. “But I’m paying for my rug. Do you understand?” 

He grinned and said something in Russian. 

“What does that mean?” she asked with a raised eyebrow as they began walking again. 

“I said, ‘you look like a little kitten when you’re angry,’” he said, chuckling to himself. 

It was her turn to roll her eyes. 

They finally found the antique furniture stalls with a variety of carpets and rugs. Alina went to each stall, studying the sizes, colors and patterns and feeling the materials of the carpets. The vendors fell over themselves trying to help her but she remained rather aloof. It helped that Aleksander loomed behind her, glaring at any man who tried to be too flirtatious with her. 

After an hour, she finally found one she liked. Actually, she loved it. It was a vintage Moroccan carpet hand-made in Marrakech in the 1960s but it was in remarkable condition. She was attracted to the pretty colors that made up the rug– the rich blush and the terracotta. It was a floral design with navy blue and cream flowers with sage green leaves and tassels. It was the perfect size to fit under her couch, coffee table and leather chair. And to go with her mid-century-modern-meets-classic-european aesthetic. 

She nodded towards the rug. 

“How much is that one?” 

“Four hundred euros, mademoiselle. Hand made by hard working Moroccan women.” 

She raised an eyebrow, acting unimpressed. 

“I’ll give you two fifty for it,” she said. 

He looked affronted but Alina knew it was an act. This was not her first rodeo, as the saying went. 

“For this masterpiece? That is one-of-a-kind? That was made by a hard-working Moroccan woman of the past? For the carpet that was said to be in the home of Coco Chanel?  No, no I need three-fifty at the very least.” 

She sighed. 

“Well, I didn’t want it that badly anyway,” she said, starting to turn around. “There are lots of rugs here. I will find another one.” 

“Wait! Wait! How about three hundred? That’s the lowest I can go.” 

She nodded. 

“Deal,” she said, grabbing her wallet and fishing out the notes. 

Aleksander smirked and nodded at her as together they picked up the rolled up carpet. It wasn’t heavy, of course. Alina could’ve lifted one hundred of these rugs but it was large enough that for a human woman it probably would’ve been too heavy to carry on her own. 

“He would’ve let you have it for two-hundred and your phone number,” he said. 

She shot him a look. 

“Well, that’s impossible to know.” 

He just smiled. 

As they sat on the metro, headed back to Montmartre with the rug in between them, they looked at each other and smiled. The silence was compatible, and Alina realized that she was more than content, she was happy. 

She couldn’t remember the last time she felt completely happy and not restless in some way. But the last few weeks had been the best of her life. 

She had a suspicion why. 

It was one o’clock in the morning, and pouring rain outside, a few days later when she heard something land on her balcony. 

From where she sat snuggled in her bed covers, orange and clove candles lit, and Doctor Zhivago in her lap, she furrowed her brow and listened. There was a soft tapping on her balcony door. 

Alina sprung from bed, knowing who it would be immediately. 

She shoved her arms into a fluffy cardigan that was strewn across the settee at the end of her bed, aware that she was clad in only her pale pink cami and sleep short set, with its tiny little flower pattern painted on. The shorts brushed the tops of her milky thighs and the fabric of the cami pulled tight across her tits and left an inch of her midriff bare. She pulled the cardigan more firmly across the outline of her peaked nipples and flitted into the living room in her cashmere socks. 

She opened the glass door to find Aleksander standing there, soaking wet. 

“Aleksander! Come in,” she ushered surprised, moving out of the way to let him enter. 

As he stepped into her flat, dripping water on her hardwood floors, the dim lamps casting the room in a warm glow, Alina finally noticed his eyes. 

“Aleksander,” she gasped. “Your eyes."  

They were a vibrant crimson. 

“Yes, Alina,” he said lowly. “I killed a human tonight. Drank his blood.” 

Alina backed up slightly as she processed his words. 

“But… you said you drank animal blood?” she whispered. The shadows danced across his face.

“I also said I drank whatever I wanted,” he said, coming closer to her. 

“Why?” she asked, distressed. Thinking of all the innocent humans living in Paris. 

“Because Alina,” he said condescendingly, “this is what I am. A monster." 

She narrowed her eyes at him. Something wasn’t right. 

“Why did you come here, Aleksander?” 

“Because it’s important for you to know what I am. What I do. I am not a good person, Alina. I am not a good man. I never have been, and I never will be. I’ve killed thousands, humans and vampires alike.” 

“I’m not scared of you,” she murmured, stepping closer. She studied him. There was self-loathing on his features. “Tell me about this person you killed. Who were they?” 

“It doesn’t matter who they were, Alina,” he said, angrily. “I still ripped out their throat and drank their blood. Drained them until they looked like a husk. Threw them into the Seine to decompose.” 

Alina’s heart pounded at his shocking words but she did not back away again. 

“There’s more to it than that, Aleksander. I know it. Tell me now : who were they? Why did you kill them?” she implored. 

He growled, relenting. As if he couldn’t ignore her command. 

“It was a taxi driver. Waiting outside of a nightclub. Waiting for drunk young women. Waiting to rape them and kill them. He’d done it before. He targeted women of color, thinking they were easier victims. That the police wouldn’t look for them as hard.” 

“How do you know, Aleksander?” she whispered, things falling into place. Unease curling in her stomach. 

“You know why, Alinochka, ” he said, looking like a wolf. He spoke again, voice low. 

“Because I can read minds." 

Her heart pounded faster. 

“Can you read mine?” she whispered, afraid of what he’d say. 

He laughed darkly, but with little amusement. 

“No, Alina I can’t. And it drives me crazy. You are my exception. My only exception.” 

Relief washed through her. 

“Is it because I’m different?" she asked. “Or is there something wrong with me?”

He chuckled in true amusement. 

“I tell you that I can read minds, and you ask if there is something wrong with you. You never fail to surprise me, Alina.” 

So many questions ran through her head. There were so many things she wanted to ask him. Where to even start? 

“You killed a man who was going to hurt other people. I don’t see how that’s a problem,” she said, finally. 

He growled. 

“I shouldn’t be able to decide that, Alina. It’s not natural. I am no God. But I act like one.” 

“You have this amazing gift,” she argued. “You can save lives. I think all rapists should die Aleksander, and if that makes me a bad person I don’t care. Men who prey on the defenseless make the world a dark and scary place. They do not deserve to live. You are making the world a safer place by destroying them.”  

He shuddered. 

“You do not mean that, Alina.” 

Alina growled at him. 

“Yes, I do, Aleksander. Do not tell me what I do and do not mean. I am immortal, just like you. Do not speak to me as if I am any lesser. As if I am a child.” 

“I apologize, Alina,” he said immediately. Contritely. “I didn't mean to imply that you are lesser than me in any way. On the contrary, you are so much more than I am. You astound me at every turn. You are like me, yes, but have far more humanity. Are far more compassionate. Much more optimistic. You are so good.” 

“I care about humans because humans raised me. Because of my mother and my aunt,” she said. “And there’s a reason why my aunt ended up at the convent. Why the other women did too. It has always been a sanctuary for women who have been abused and hurt by men. I certainly have no qualms about killing men who attack women– I suppose I’m Machiavellian in that way.” 

“I haven’t always killed bad people, Alina. For hundreds of years I killed any human whose scent called to me.” 

“I know,” she murmured. “But that was then, and this is now.” 

He looked at her, long and hard. Rain pounded against the glass windows. 

Her cardigan had fallen open. 

His eyes ran over her scantily clad form. Her bare legs. Her peaked nipples. Her mussed hair. The curve of her waist. The flare of her hips. His eyes lingered on her lips. 

Look, she thought. I’m all yours and I’m not afraid. 

He stepped closer and murmured, “I should go.”

“Stay,” she argued, softly. 

He lifted his hand and caressed her cheek. She leaned into his touch because it felt so right. His thumb brushed over her full bottom lip and she parted her lips. He sighed in what Alina thought was longing. 

“Goodnight, zhizn moya.” 

And then he was gone. 

Aleksander had invited her to dinner. 

She made one comment the day before, about how she was hungry , how she was craving red meat, a juicy steak, specifically, and the next night Aleksander had booked them into an exclusive little restaurant in Le Marais that she’d heard of and knew that they had a months-long waiting list. 

The dimly lit gastro-brasserie boasted tiny little round tables nestled into cozy alcoves and dark corners with plenty of cigarette smoke creating a hazy ambiance. Tea-lights sat on the tables in vintage green glassware with a faint glow. 

So Alina had dressed up for the occasion. At least, more than usual. Because this felt like a date. 

She wore a little black satin dress with spaghetti straps, leaving so much of her pale skin on display– more than she usually allowed in public. Her golden crucifix hung around her neck and shiny black patent leather mary jane heels adorned her feet. Her lips were painted a dusty rose color and her already large eyes were lined by delicate, and perfectly symmetrical, black winged eyeliner. Her silver hair was twisted away from her face into a messy French twist. 

She felt like a modern-day Brigitte Bardot. 

She ordered her steak cooked bleu. Just a hard sear on the outside, deliciously caramelized with the interior still red and bloody, just how she liked it. 

There was a bottle of red Bordeaux on the table that was far too expensive. 

And there was something unnerving about how Aleksander watched her eat. It was strangely sensual. He watched her with rapt attention, as if she was the most fascinating thing in the whole restaurant. 

It felt like something had shifted between them. Since the night that Aleksander had come to her flat after hunting. There was a new mutual understanding between them, yes. But there was also something else. There was tension. There was an attraction. Alina had seen it on Aleksander’s face that night, and knew he saw it on hers. 

She just didn’t know what happened next. 

Her experiences with men were… miniscule. Let alone vampire men. 

Alina set down her knife and fork daintily and picked up her glass of wine. She swirled it around and took a sip. 

“Will you tell me more about mind-reading,” she asked, softly to break the loaded silence. 

“What would you like to know?” 

She bit her lip. 

“How does it work? Do you have to focus on the person first to hear their thoughts? Or do you hear everyone’s thoughts all at the same time?” 

“Everyone’s at the same time,” he confirmed. “Thoughts are constantly buzzing around me. I can usually tune the thoughts out– however if someone is thinking particularly loudly, it’s more difficult to ignore.” 

“That must be so overwhelming,” she said, astonished. “Especially in a big city with so many people.” 

He nodded and drummed his fingers on the table. 

“When I first woke, it was very disorienting. My sire quickly caught on to the fact that I was responding to things he wasn’t saying aloud. He helped me learn how to manage, and eventually weaponize, my gift. It is a very intense ability,” he admitted. “But very useful. It has saved my life in fights many times, being able to anticipate my opponent’s next move.” 

Alina still couldn’t believe that Aleksander could read minds.

“How do they work?” Alina asked, sipping more wine. “Vampire gifts. Does everyone have one?” 

“No,” Aleksander said. “Few vampires have special abilities. I have my theories why some have them and others don’t. I suspect that it has to do with our personalities and skills during our human lives. For example, while I don’t remember very much of my human years, I remember that I was good at anticipating what people were thinking. What they would do. It’s why I was so successful on the battlefield. I think the skill was amplified when I was turned, manifesting into a supernatural gift.” 

“That’s incredible,” she breathed. “What are some other vampire gifts?” 

“There is another vampire who can read minds. Except he has to be touching the individual to read them. And instead of only being able to read their current thoughts, he can hear every thought they’ve ever had. It’s an extremely dangerous gift, as you can imagine. Influencing is another one. One of my coven-mates can exert a certain amount of influence onto people and situations. It’s a very subtle gift, most people don’t realize he’s doing it. Especially if they’re not aware that he has the ability. And the most spectacular ability that I’ve ever come across is the ability to see the future.”

Alina gasped. “Really?” 

“Yes,” Aleksander said. “Although her visions are not certain. The future changes all the time. She only sees certain possibilities. But again, it's a very valuable gift. One that many people revere, and also fear. Many covens would like to get their hands on her, but Genya belongs to my coven,” he said with a soft smile. 

Something ugly passed through Alina at the sound of another woman’s name on Aleksander’s lips. Jealousy, she realized with a start. Genya belongs to my coven, he’d said. There was something intimate about that. This female vampire, Genya, was a part of his coven . More his, than Alina was. 

She hoped desperately that they were not lovers. 

“I have a suspicion,” he began, “that you have your own gift, Alina.” 

“Me?” she said, surprised. She couldn’t do anything special apart from her normal vampire abilities like speed and strength. 

“Yes. Like I’ve told you before, in my thousand years of existence, I have never come across a person whose mind I cannot read. I have a suspicion that if my gift does not work on you, there is a high probability that other gifts will not work on you either. At least, gifts that target the mind. Like mine. That would make you a very powerful shield.” 

Alina processed. 

“Could it just be that because I’m only half-vampire, you can’t read my mind?” 

“I did wonder that,” he mused. “But if I can read every human and every vampire, there shouldn’t be a reason why I can’t read you.” 

Alina again thanked God that he couldn’t read her mind. The embarrassment of him knowing her thoughts toward him would surely kill her. 

For example, as he sat across from her in the flickering candle-light, she was reminded of a Caravaggio portrait. Chiaroscuro, Renaissance artists called it. Light and dark. He was so gorgeous, the warm glow of light catching his pale beauty, making him look absolutely ethereal. And yet shadows seemed to cling to him, reminding Alina that the man before her was much more of an Ares or Hades type than a traditional biblical Caravaggio-muse. 

No, Aleksander was not an innocent boy in any way, shape or form. He was a man. Mature in both his looks, manner and delicious scent. Perpetually exuding an air of confidence and danger. Always completely at ease. And he was not overtly good, Alina knew. He’d done bad things, he admitted that to her the other night. But she didn’t care. Not really. It should’ve scared Alina but it didn’t. 

Their waiter came back to the table. He was young and handsome and couldn’t stop staring at Alina. He asked if there was anything else he could get them, while only looking at her. Aleksander looked at her with a raised brow. 

Alina ordered the chocolate mousse and the waiter left after a long pause. 

When Alina looked back to Aleksander, she observed that she wasn’t the only one doing a perusal of the other. Aleksander’s dark eyes, practically black in this lighting, drank her in. His eyes lingered at her neck. 

In a low tone that reminded her of crushed velvet he said: 

“You look radiant tonight, Alina. Forgive me for not saying so earlier.” 

She couldn’t contain her blush. Or her pleasure at his words. 

“Thank you, Aleksander,” she murmured demurely, looking up at him through her long lashes.

“In fact,” he continued deeply, eyes never leaving hers. “If I’m being completely honest with you, malyshka, you are the most radiant woman I have ever encountered in my very long existence.” 

She swallowed heavily, overwhelmed by his words. 

“I– thank you, Aleksander but that can’t be true. I’m not even a full vampire. Surely the female vampires that you know eclipse me in every possible way,” she murmured. 

He was shaking his head before she had even finished. 

“I will never lie to you Alina, not ever. What I said, I meant. You are… exquisite. One of a kind. Inhumanly beautiful like the rest of us, but warmer. Alive. You can blush. It’s hypnotizing to watch,” he said deeply. “The first time I saw you, I thought you were Vasilisa the Beautiful, straight from the pages of the Russian fairy-tale.”

Alina’s heart started to beat faster at his words. She bit her lip.

“And the thoughts I have had to endure by being around you,” he continued, lowly. “I’ve never despised human men so much before. It’s been an exercise in patience.” 

Alina’s eyes glittered at his words. 

“Aleksander Morozov, having to be patient?” she teased. “Something tells me that you don’t often have to be.” 

He looked at her long and loaded. 

“You’d be surprised, Alina.” 

Alina suddenly felt like they were talking about something else entirely. 

“Aleksander,” she asked, unable to stop herself. “You’ve lived such a long life, seen so many things. How can you do it? Doesn’t life get boring after a while? Or lonely?” 

He hummed, tapping his fingers on the marble table. 

“Yes, a never-ending existence can get rather boring. Especially, because for many years I was alone. Creating a coven helped, of course. But the boredom and loneliness still prevail from time to time.” 

He looked at her thoughtfully. “I suppose I try to find the pleasure in life’s small moments. Like, drinking the blood of an especially flavorful bear. Watching the Bolshoi company dance a perfect ballet. Opening a bottle of scotch and smelling the aroma. A competitive game of chess. Reading a good book for the first time. Sex. Being away from people. Letting the silence settle in my mind.” 

Alina swallowed. She could see it all in her mind, what he described. The thought of him having sex with nameless, faceless beautiful vampires for a thousand years made her absolutely crazy with jealousy. 

“They were good distractions while I waited,” he continued. 

“While you waited for what?” she asked, hung on every word.

He only smiled at her. Knowingly. 

The waiter brought Alina’s chocolate mousse to the table, placing it in front of her. He bowed to her and left. 

“And what about you, Alina? Do you get lonely?” 

Alina opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. She circled the rim of her wine glass once with a freshly manicured French tip. 

“Yes,” she finally admitted. “I’m so lucky to have my Aunt Ana– I know that and I adore her. She’s done so much for me. But as she reminds me, she’s a servant of God first and my aunt second. She raised me with the help of the sisters, but we all knew I was different. And when I matured fully I started to feel like I was in the way at the convent so I left and moved to Paris. I still visit often, but it feels like she’s chosen her path and I’ve done the same.” 

Alina paused to take a bite of her dessert. The dark chocolate, so decadent, burst across her tongue. The flaky sea salt that was sprinkled on top cut through the richness. She sighed in pleasure. Aleksander watched her with his undivided attention, eyes dark, and she continued on, after swallowing.

“I don’t really have any friends. So that can be lonely sometimes, especially in such a vibrant city. People have wanted to get close to me– but it's just too hard. Knowing that I can’t maintain friendships because one day they’ll realize that I don’t age or go out in the sun. Instead I do little things like you do, I suppose. Things that fulfill me. I go on long walks. I read. I like the ritual of taking bubble baths,” she said, smiling softly. “Of going to museums. It doesn’t matter that I've seen the art hundreds of times before. It still makes me feel something. I like the feeling of wearing cashmere socks. Of sleeping in silk bed sheets. Lighting candles. Eating chocolate.” 

He watched her for a long moment, something unreadable in his gaze. Then finally said, 

“No sex?” 

She blushed. 

“I’m afraid my experiences haven’t been especially pleasurable.” 

She watched as Aleksander’s face transformed from teasing to a dark amusement. Almost as if he was pleased at her confession. 

But she’d spoken true, Alina had only had sex twice and neither time had been very enjoyable.

Both occasions had been one-night stands with humans, sparked by curiosity. She’d grown up in a strict Catholic convent, around all women sensitive to the subject, not knowing anything about sex. So when she’d moved to Paris and was suddenly exposed to a complete lifestyle change, she’d been curious. 

One of her lover’s was a man, the other a woman. 

The problem was that Alina had been so self-aware both times. 

With the man, she was so worried about hurting him. Squeezing her legs around his waist too tight, or pulling his hair too roughly. After he had spilled inside the condom only after a few minutes of thrusting (which Alina had barely been able to feel) and having to listen to his cringey dirty talk while he fondled her breasts, Alina had been disillusioned by sex with human men. She hadn’t tried again. 

The woman had been better. She was all dark silky hair, heavy-breasts and tiny waist. She’d been beautiful for a human. She made Alina come on her tongue (with Alina’s own fingers on her clit to help) which was enjoyable, although not as good as her self-induced orgasms. When it was time to return the favor, Alina had discovered she preferred receiving oral sex from women more than giving it. It was stressful, having to be extra slow and extra light-handed. Especially when she was in a lustful headspace. Plus, the bottom line was that humans didn’t smell very good to her– and she found scent incredibly important.

So yes. Those were the only times she’d had sex. 

“Don’t worry, Alinochka,” Aleksander said, like a predator. “You are very young and have a long existence ahead of you. I’m sure you will find an attentive lover who will take care of you.” 

Alina was sure she’d never blushed so hard in her life. 

When Alina arrived home after a quick metro trip, the first thing she did after locking her door behind her was pull the clip-on earrings from her ears and drop them on the table. 

Then she kicked off her mary jane’s. 

Her dress came off next, carelessly dropped on the floor even though it was vintage Miu Miu. 

Then her thong. 

Then she released her hair from its twist, letting it cascade down her back. 

The moment she collapsed on her bed, fully nude with only her crucifix around her neck, her fingers were in her pussy. 

She’d been wet at dinner, so wet, especially after Aleksander’s compliments and all their talk of sex. Like, did he know what he was doing to her?

She cupped one of her modest breasts with one hand– pulling and tweaking the pink nipple which sent electric shocks to her clit. 

The other hand was busy, her thumb massaged her clit while two fingers drove in and out of her wet pussy, going far faster and harder than a human could. 

She moaned. 

“Aleksander..."

She came. 

She imagined his dark eyes. Running her fingers against his bearded jawline. Tugging on his luscious hair. Seeing his cock, which she knew in her heart, would be impressive. 

She came again, toes curling in silk. 

She found her g-spot and curled her fingers up, shuddering and moaning at the sensation. 

She came a third time. 

Only after she came a total of six times did she feel satisfied enough to stop fucking herself. 

The intensity of her lust had cooled and, as she stood in the shower, lathering her body with lavender bubbles, she arrived at three sudden conclusions. 

First, she was totally and completely in love with Aleksander Morozov. 

Second, she was quite certain that she would do just about anything for him. 

And thirdly, she didn’t want him to leave Paris, like ever. She knew he belonged to a coven but why did it feel like he belonged to her? 

So overall, she was utterly and totally, fucked.  

Chapter Text

November 

Paris 

The weeks of autumn continued to fly by. 

Alina’s midterms had passed in a flurry of essays and exams, and while she enjoyed her readings and assignments, her studies just weren’t her focus at the moment. She had decided upon her MA as a distraction, to cure her boredom, having already gotten her BA and her first MA in Modern Languages. It took barely any effort to keep up with her classes, her mind could hold unlimited information and she had a photographic memory. 

And yet, sometimes when she had to leave Aleksander to work on an essay or do a reading for class at the very last minute, she regretted her decision. 

On Halloween, Alina had dragged Aleksander to the catacombs for some spooky vibes, and honestly, seeing the bones of millions of Parisians had been a bit grim. Then, they’d walked around the fourteenth, smelling the roasting chestnuts from various street vendors before heading back to Alina’s. In the evening, she’d tried making pumpkin muffins, only to discover that pumpkin didn’t actually taste like anything to her. She ended up giving the muffins to the elderly couple on the ground floor of her building, Monsieur and Madame Saint-Pierre but they had seemed unimpressed by the American-inspired treat. Alina settled for pig’s blood instead, which was much more fitting for Halloween, she thought. 

It was now mid November and almost all the trees were spindly skeletons of their former selves with crunchy umber-colored leaves lining the sidewalks and streets. It was perpetually grey and gloomy, and in the last week it had rained everyday. 

The city was quiet and sleepy, it was too early for Christmas preparations, so Paris seemed to just be, remaining in that strange in-between time. 

It was a Friday afternoon and Alina and Aleksander were out exploring the sixteenth arrondissement Passy. Known for being one of the least populated neighborhoods with some of the most expensive residences, Alina admittedly hadn’t spent much time in this quartier. All she really knew was that tourists often came to this neighborhood to get fantastic views of the Eiffel Tower from across the Trocadéro and it was where the Macrons lived. 

It was the first time she’d seen Aleksander in over two days. He’d left the city to go hunting– vegetarian hunting as he called it. And even though it hadn’t been long at all, Alina had missed him profoundly. It was strange how much she’d gotten used to his presence, especially in such a short amount of time. How irritable she had felt when he was away. When Aleksander had returned, Alina couldn’t help but jump into his arms for a hug. 

He’d chuckled and wrapped his arms around her before pressing a kiss onto her hair, making her heart race. 

“I missed you too, Alinochka,” he’d said. 

The pair were now doing what they normally did, walking around, talking and popping into little shops when Alina inevitably spied something she liked from the window. They’d just stopped at a cute little boulangerie with an aubergine-purple facade so that Alina could get a snack when the thunder started. 

As she took a bite into the flaky pistachio and chocolate escargot and looked up at the sky, she mumbled around the puff pastry, “that doesn’t look very good.” 

It was true. 

Charcoal grey storm clouds loomed above, and as soon as the words were out of her mouth, an unexpected deluge of rain began. 

Alina shrieked in surprise. 

Aleksander pulled them under the nearest awning to wait out the rain, but by the time they were under, both were thoroughly soaked through. A few other passerbyers without umbrellas joined them, looking like drowned city cats. 

It lasted about ten minutes– the downpour, before stopping as abruptly as it began. As their companions under the awning started to leave the safety of the red stripes, Alina saw that the dark clouds had miraculously cleared to reveal the first tendrils of sunlight and blue sky.

“Aleksander,” Alina warned, pulling on the sleeve of his camel colored coat. 

“I see,” he murmured, grabbing her hand. He pulled them out from under the awning and pulled her into the nearest alley. 

“My flat isn’t too far,” was all he said lowly, as they hurried through the streets. 

They stuck to shady halves of the sidewalks to avoid the direct sunlight. Alina put on her sunglasses and wrapped the blue Hermes scarf that Aleksander had given her around her wet hair and lower half of her face, trying to obscure herself as best as she could. 

Similarly, Aleksander popped the collar of his coat up and put his own sunglasses on. Both kept their heads down and Aleksander continued to lead them to an area that now looked quite residential. And very expensive. The townhouses grew bigger and bigger and wrought iron gates and manicured green shrubs lined the facades of the homes. 

Just when Alina was about to suggest heading into a restaurant or cafe to try and wait out the abrupt and strengthening sun, Aleksander unlocked one of the ornate gates and practically pushed her through. He unlocked the front door, painted matte black against the tea-colored stone, and let out a sigh of relief as they stumbled across the threshold. 

“That was close,” he muttered. 

Alina looked around in awe at the huge foyer they now found themselves in. White marble flooring with smaller black tiles inlaid. Another fancy wrought-iron stair railing that ascended further up into the house, indicating that there were several floors above them. 

“Wow,” Alina said, finally. “This is your place?”

Aleksander nodded. 

“It’s gorgeous,” she said, unwrapping the scarf from around herself. Aleksander moved to take her coat. “How old is this building?” 

“It was built in the seventeenth-century,” he responded, hanging her damp coat on the wooden hook. “We acquired it in the nineteenth during the belle époque. Although, we updated it a decade or so ago to be more modern on the inside.”  

It made her one-bedroom attic flat look like a shoebox. 

She hung her back purse on the hook but decided to leave her heeled black boots on for now. After all, Aleksander hadn’t taken off his shoes. 

“Come upstairs and see the view,” he urged. 

She followed him up two flights of stairs and immediately found herself in a large living area. The cherry wooden parquet flooring was similar to her own flat. There were lots of expensive and modern looking pieces of furniture and artwork on the walls, offset by some more traditional pieces like golden-gilded mirrors and a crystal chandelier hanging from the impossibly high ceiling. A gorgeous white marble fireplace that was ornately carved stood out against the far wall. Whoever had been in charge of decorating the townhouse had done a wonderful job because it had a certain je ne sais quoi about it. It was beautifully decadent while also feeling homey. After a split second of study,  Alina’s attention was captured by the four large floor-to-ceiling glass doors leading out to balconies. 

Alina stepped closer and moved one of the gossamer curtains aside. She found herself looking at an incredible view of the Seine, a very large Eiffel Tower and the surrounding Trocadéro gardens. 

“Oh!” she exclaimed, delighted. “How beautiful!” 

The view was practically unobscured by other buildings which was very unusual in a large city. Alina could imagine sitting out on this balcony on an evening with a glass of wine and watching the sunset over the iconic landmark. 

“Yes,” Aleksander said, seriously. “Utterly beautiful.” 

Something in his tone made Alina turn from the view and look at him. 

He wasn’t looking outside at all, only at Alina. 

She didn’t glitter in the sun, not like he did. Instead, she glowed softly and iridescently. 

The air suddenly felt heavy. 

She bit her lip. 

Aleksander approached, and Alina didn’t move a single muscle. 

He stood before her and lifted a hand to gently place on the curve of her jaw, brushing his thumb across her cheek softly and tilting her head up towards his own. His hand was so large that she felt vulnerable to have it so close to her neck. Like she was surrendering to him.

He’d killed thousands by a snap of the neck, she knew. With the slightest pressure she could be dead by his hands. But Alina trusted Aleksander. Sometime in the two months that she had known him, Alina had grown to trust him implicitly. It felt like she had known him her whole life. 

Alina feared that Aleksander would pull away again. But she was tired of waiting for him to make a move. Tired of this inevitable dance they were doing around each other. 

So she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. 

The moment their lips touched, they both sighed. 

As if they’d both been waiting for this a long time. 

Alina twined her arms around Aleksander’s neck, wanting to be closer to him as she deepened the kiss. In return, he sank a hand into her still damp silver tresses while the other curved possessively around her waist.

“Alina,” he breathed against her mouth reverently. 

She sighed in bliss. 

“Aleksander,” she murmured back. 

Even though Alina’s romantic experiences were miniscule, she knew with absolute clarity that she was born to be with Aleksander. She felt it in her bones, in her heart. In the blood that flowed through her immortal veins. Like everything was suddenly falling into place. 

Like she’d been waiting her whole life for him to make an appearance. 

It was bliss. 

He kissed her again, and she sighed into his mouth, intoxicated by his sensual and incredibly addictive kisses. Somehow he tasted even more delicious than his scent. As she sucked on his bottom lip, she finally got to do what she’d been dreaming of, run her hands through his dark waves, long nails scratching at the base of his neck and he groaned at her ministrations. 

He broke away from her mouth only to kiss her pulse softly. It made her gasp. 

“Your heart, Alina. It’s beating so fast.” 

She nodded and without thinking said:

“It beats for you.” 

He grew as still as a statue. 

Alina worried that her words had scared him. Worried that maybe he didn’t feel the same way about her that she felt for him. She’d never been rejected before, and if Aleksander broke her heart, she knew without a doubt that she would never, ever recover, not as long as she lived. 

After a moment of stillness, Aleksander surged forward and cupped her flushed cheeks in his hands. He stared down at her with heat and wonder in his gaze. 

“Alina,” Aleksander rasped. “I have waited a thousand years for you. And I would’ve waited a thousand more.” 

She gasped at his words. 

Before she could utter a response, he caught her in another passionate kiss. This one was hotter and wetter, more desperate and undone than the last.

“Aleksander, please. I want you,” she said desperately. Her cheeks were flushed, her heart was racing. Her eyes, capable of tears, felt glassy. And god was she wet. 

He growled against her mouth in response to her words. In satisfaction. His burgundy eyes grew brighter in excitement. In anticipation. 

“I’ll give you everything you’ll ever want, Alina,” he promised. “Give you what you need.” 

He scooped her up, like a bride, and in less than a second they had flown up two more flights of stairs to the attic. 

Alina knew immediately that this room was Aleksander’s. The large bedroom with its dark wood furniture. The dark walls. The bookcases and antique maps on the wall. The impossibly large bed with an intricately carved wooden headboard and black silk sheets. A wall of windows covered by navy gossamer curtains. The scent. 

Aleksander deposited Alina onto the bed like she was precious treasure. Like she was a  princess in a storybook being carried by her dark prince. 

She immediately pulled him on top of her, not wanting to let him go for even a moment. Her hands reached for his sweater, eager to get him unclothed, and he tutted. 

“You first, malyshka. I’ve been waiting much longer.” 

She pouted but Aleksander just kissed her. 

In a second, he had pulled off her white turtleneck, leaving her in her pale pink La Perla bra. It was sheer, did nothing to hide her peaked nipples and it seemed to stop Aleksander short. 

He swore and growled something in Russian. 

He ran a finger down one of the cups, admiring her so plainly, and at the brush of his finger against her sensitive nipple, she gasped. Arched her back for him, unable to control her instincts.

“So responsive,” he murmured delightedly, before kissing her deeply. 

“These boots,” he growled as he unzipped each one and tossed them across the room. “And your tiny, little skirts.” He pulled off her navy mini and ripped her tights off. 

It left her in only her bra and matching silk thong. Thank god she’d put on matching underwear today. 

“Alina,” he murmured reverently, looking down at her with dark pleasure. His fingers found the thin fabric at her hips and tugged, creating tortuous friction on her pussy that made her gasp. 

In a heartbeat, her thong was ripped off and her bra was snapped from the front, the underwire breaking, and Aleksander threw both across the room, impatient to have her naked. 

Alina blinked in shock.

“I liked those, Aleks! They were expensive!” 

“I’ll buy you a thousand more,” he rasped, in a tone that only made her wetter than she already was. She squeezed her thighs together. “I’ll buy you anything you want, Alina. Now let me behold you, zhizn moya.” 

Alina blushed as Aleksander so blatantly took in her nude form while he was still fully clothed. She imagined she was quite a sight, naked and flushed and practically dripping for him. 

“You are so beautiful,” he said, voice low. “So perfect.” He started to kiss down her body. “And made just for me. Spun from my dreams and deepest desires.” 

Alina gasped at every spot he kissed. Her lips, her neck, her collarbones and over her heart. When he got to her breasts and kissed each eager nipple, she couldn’t help but mewl like a kitten. When he sucked on each one, lapping against her sensitive nipples, she thought she might come from that alone. 

“Such pretty nipples. So little and pink,” he murmured, reverently. “Breasts that fit perfectly in my hands.” 

“Please, Aleksander,” she begged, squirming. 

He chuckled darkly at her words. 

“As my little koshechka wishes,” he murmured, kissing her wetly on the lips. 

His large hands found her delicate knees and opened her legs for him. Alina blushed. She was splayed out before him like a butterfly. 

His dark eyes roved over her bare pussy, glistening and pink for him. 

She watched his throat bob. 

“Alina,” he said like a prayer. 

Alina cried out at the first touch of his tongue on her pussy. She tried to buck her hips at the sensation but Aleksander’s strong hands were there, keeping her milky thighs open and steady for him. With each slow lap of his tongue, Alina thought she was going to die. This was how it would end. Death by pussy-licking. And the juxtaposition between his dark hair buried between her fair thighs was the most erotic sight of her short life. 

There was something about seeing Aleksander– proud, masculine, mature Aleksander, fully clothed and kneeling before her, that was absolutely surreal. Surreal that somehow she, Alina, had brought this practically ancient man to his knees. 

When he flicked his tongue against her clit, she thought she might’ve seen stars. She let out a little sound that she had never made before. 

“Ma petite sainte,” he murmured, against her most intimate flesh. “You taste divine.”  

She gasped when he easily slid a large finger into her wet center. It was so much bigger and longer than one of her own. Her eyelids fluttered at the sensation of his tongue on her clit and finger in her pussy. 

When Aleksander added another finger and curled upwards, the tension building in Alina burst and she came. 

“Aleks!” she gasped as she tensed around his fingers, toes clenched in the silk. Unadulterated pleasure washed over her as her limbs shook and her pussy fluttered in the joy of release. 

Dark eyes watched her with intensity from where his face was still buried in between her legs. 

“Mesmerizing,” he murmured deeply against her clit. “I had wondered if you’d blush all over when you came– I was right.” 

Aleksander increased his pace after her first orgasm. The motions of his fingers grew harder, rougher. He added a third finger and Alina gasped in pain and pleasure. Her fingers threaded into his dark locks and she pulled, not sure if she wanted to pull him closer, or push him away at the extreme sensations. His free hand reached up and tweaked her nipples.  

“Such a good girl,” he murmured. “Taking my fingers so well.” 

When he dragged his short beard against her soft, sensitive inner thigh, she came around his fingers, again with a little stuttering gasp.

He did not relent. 

He made her come three more times on his fingers and mouth, fingers and tongue moving so much faster than a human could. 

All she could do was writhe around as the ground-breaking, life-altering sensations overtook her. Her cheeks were hot, her hair mussed all around her and tears ran down her cheeks in the overwhelming quality of her intense orgasms and feelings. 

Her self-induced orgasms had never been this powerful. 

Little deaths, they were called. And Alina died and was reborn each time Aleksander brought forth another one. 

“S’il vous plaît,” she cried out, finally. “Please Aleks, I want your cock.” 

He groaned, licking his lips clean of her. 

“As if I could deny you anything, malyshka.” 

He got up and finally Alina was going to see Aleksander naked. 

She sat on her knees, aware of her dripping pussy beneath her that continued to flutter, breasts bouncing, and helped him pull off his sweater and shirt. 

At the sight of his bare chest, she gasped in shock. 

He was glorious of course, with a perfect, muscled physique. Strong arms, shoulders and outlined abdominals. There was a light dusting of dark hair across his chest. He was like a Greek statue, carved from marble and perfection. The pronounced vee of his hips practically made her gaze glaze over.

But what made her cry out in surprise were the dozens, maybe even hundreds, of silvery scars that marred his pale torso and arms. 

Bite-marks, she realized in horror. 

“Who did this to you!” she cried, tracing a particularly nasty scar on his left forearm. 

“Do not worry yourself, my sweet. Most of these are very old. And as you can see, I’m perfectly fine.” 

She looked up at him, still outraged. 

“But how did you get them?” she asked. She couldn’t bear the thought of him in pain. Or in danger. It made her want to destroy anyone who tried to harm him. 

“I have fought many vampires, Alina. Remember I told you that my sire made me for battle?” 

She nodded. 

“I have fought hundreds of immortals. And destroyed them all.” 

He caressed her jaw and she nodded, assuaged for now. 

In fact, there was something deeply attractive about his scars, something primal about them. They showed that he was a skilled fighter and that he could defeat his enemies. That he was strong and fearsome. That he could protect her.  

Alina’s lustful mind went fuzzy as she helped him tug down his trousers and boxer-briefs. 

“Oh," she said as his cock sprang free. It was a work of art, really. A plaster cast of it deserved to be hung in the Louvre for people to behold in awe. It was long and pink and straining towards her. And it was big. She was slightly afraid. 

She bit her lip and looked up at him from where he stood at the end of the bed, naked and proud. 

“Will that really fit inside me?” she asked. 

He chuckled darkly at her words. Satisfied. 

“Yes, Alina. It’ll fit. You were made for me. Made to take my cock.” 

She blinked at his words. 

Well, I’m always up for a challenge, she thought. 

He threaded both of his hands into her hair and leaned down to kiss her deeply. 

She groaned at the sweet, citrusy and a bit musky taste of herself on his lips. God, that was hot. 

Even though she had come five times, she was again ready for more. Eager for him. 

He plucked her nipples, ran his eyes over her waiting form. 

Then he pushed her back onto the bed and loomed before her. Like a predator. 

He kissed her again. 

“I’ve waited so long for this,” he confessed, lowly. “And now I finally get to have you.”  

“Yes, Aleksander,” she murmured, caressing his bearded jaw. “I’m yours.” 

He shuddered at her words. 

“And I am yours, Alina. Forever.” 

She gasped at his words, but the shock was overshadowed by the exquisite sensation of his cock pushing into her wet pussy. She groaned at the feeling of him stretching her so thoroughly. Her eyelids fluttered as he continued to sink into her, inch by glorious inch.

She felt so incredibly full. It was so pleasurable, but with a hint of pain. Somehow that only made it feel better. Even more intense. 

The vibrators, dildos and human cock that had been inside her before paled in comparison to the feeling of Aleksander. He was so much harder and bigger than anything else she’d experienced. She felt stuffed to the brim as he continued to sink into her.

Never in her life had anything felt so right. It was true, she thought. We were made for each other. Like this space inside of her had been carved out for him. 

“You’re so tight and hot,” he murmured, disbelievingly. “And so small. Your pussy is clenching around me so perfectly, koshechka.” 

Alina mewled at his words. Cried out in shock when he started moving inside of her. Her mouth dropped open.

“Oh!” 

He started slowly, letting her adjust to the size of him. 

When he thrusted into her deeply– completely sheathed inside of her, base to tip, Alina’s eyelids fluttered close and her mouth parted in a silent cry. In theory, she knew she couldn’t pass out, but for a moment, she thought she just might. 

He kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, caught her mouth in a searing, wet kiss.

“Does that feel good, Alinochka?”

She nodded. Unable to speak. Her eyes were wet.

Pleasure built and built, coiling low in her stomach with each of his slow, deep thrusts. 

She looked down to see where they were connected and mewled at the erotic sight. Aleksander, never having taken his eyes off Alina once, groaned at the sight of her watching them. 

His thrusts grew faster, harder. He folded her in half, his hands wrapped around the backs of her milky thighs, pushing her more firmly into the bed, her knees practically behind her ears, almost pressed into the pillows. 

The wooden headboard slammed into the plaster wall with each thrust, but neither of them paid it any mind.

His fingers found her clit and massaged it. 

“Aleks!” she exclaimed as he pressed down suddenly on her clit. She came like a violent storm, pleasure whipping around her in a flurry. Her whole body jerked and her pussy squeezed Aleksander making him gasp. Alina’s eyes fell shut for a moment. Even as Aleksander continued to fuck her. 

He pressed her harder into the bed. Fucked her mercilessly. She felt the sheets shred under her nails. 

“Look at me, malyshka,” he commanded, jaw tense. 

Alina’s heavy eyelids fluttered open. 

Burgundy eyes met brown. 

With a deep groan and shudder, Aleksander came. He looked like a Greek god, almost divine in the throes of his pleasure. 

Inside, her pussy felt warm with his release. 

Behind her, the headboard cracked. 

He slowed his thrusts, never stopping, and as Alina recovered, her lust slowly returned. She moaned softly. 

A moment later, Aleksander was rock hard again. 

“On your hands and knees, Alina.” 

As he pulled out, Alina flipped onto her stomach obediently. Pushing her backside up for him. Like she’d seen in porn videos.

He groaned. 

“You look so beautiful like this, moya kukolka. I can see my come dripping out of you.” 

Alina mewled at his filthy words and when he pushed back inside her, with a wet squelch, her fingers twisted in the silky sheets. Gasped when she realized this angle was even deeper. How was that even possible? 

“Aleks,” she choked as his cock hit her deepest place. 

His pace was furious, punishing, and more than a little desperate. He wrapped a hand around her silver hair and tugged. It felt so obscene. 

Alina didn’t even have the capacity to speak. She was all gasps, mewls, moans and hiccups as he fucked her. 

After some time, she dropped her chest to the bed and head onto the feather pillows, unable to hold herself up any longer. 

Behind her, Aleksander growled at the explicit sight.

When Aleksander spanked her, his palm coming down on one of her milky cheeks with a harsh sting, the slap echoing in the large room, Alina gasped in shock. She felt her pussy grow even slicker at his roughness. 

Aleksander chuckled darkly.  

“This flushes too, my sweet,” he said. 

Alina groaned and came immediately when his fingers found her clit again.

Her tears soaked the pillows and her thighs quivered and trembled. Her pussy locked around Aleksander’s cock like a vice. 

He pushed her all the way down so that she laid prostrate on her stomach. As she came down from her orgasm, he continued to fuck her. 

Recovering quickly, another orgasm built inside of her. 

Another crack was made in the headboard, the wood groaned at the abuse it took but it did not stop Aleksander’s pace. In fact, it seemed to spur him on. 

When he came with another low groan, Alina came with him. 

They fucked on the bed. In the claw foot bathtub. On the stairs. 

He ate her out on the white marble bathroom counter. 

And on the chaise lounge. 

And when the sun went down, Aleksander started a fire in the living room fireplace.

They fucked on the floor in front of it, on a beautiful and no doubt spectacularly expensive rug, that unfortunately, would probably not survive the weekend. 

That time, Alina was on top. Riding Aleksander for all that she was worth. Watched his eyes as they tracked her bouncing tits. He leaned up to bite them, kiss them, lick them.. Burgundy eyes bright. Loving that she was in charge.

“That’s it,” he encouraged. “Ride me, Alina. Take from me what you want. It’s all yours.” 

She put on a show for him, enabled by his lustful gaze. She swiveled her hips. Swept her blonde hair up in her hands and held it up before letting it cascade down her shoulders in a cloud of silver. Bit her lip. Gasped. Dragged her nails down his chest. Clenched her pussy around his cock. Pulled at her nipples. 

He came quickly that time, and when he flicked her clit back and forth with vampire speed, she came around him with a cry. 

She collapsed on top of him and sighed in utter contentment. 

“How do vampires get anything done when they can just fuck all day and all night?” 

He chuckled deeply and ran his fingers through her tangled hair, massaging her scalp. She practically purred like a kitten as his ministrations. 

“It helps to have eternity on your side. You never run out of time.” 

Aleksander sat up on the rug so they were chest to chest. He slowly moved Alina’s hips up and down so that she rode him, oh so slowly. He seemed content to stay inside of her for hours at a time– not wanting to leave her warmth. And Alina had no problem with that whatsoever. It felt like she was born to have him inside of her. 

“I can smell other scents here besides yours,” she said, after a moment. “Other vampires.”

“Ah, yes. I wondered when you’d ask about that,” he nodded, still moving her hips. “My coven-mates.” 

She chewed on her lip. 

“Will you tell me about them?” she asked, finally feeling brave enough to ask about his coven. She’d put this conversation off for so long, not really wanting to know about the people he loved. His family. 

He hummed, cock buried inside of her. 

“Of course, my sweet. I changed Ivan first, in the thirteenth century, when I was a nomad. He was dying of a bear-attack when I found him. He was a soldier, and I could tell that he was extremely intelligent by his thoughts. I changed him, my first time. And since then he has always been like a brother to me. He, like us, is gifted. He can track any vampire across the world if he has scented them.” 

Alina nodded, distracted by Aleksander’s fingers on her clit. How he sounded so composed as he fucked her, she did not know. 

“Fedyor was next. He was a human, a young peasant farmer, when Ivan and I came across him. His village was starving from a crop blight. Ivan knew that Fedyor was his mate immediately and begged me to change him. I did and they have been together ever since. He can sense the feelings of others.” 

“Mate?” Alina, gasped. 

“Yes, malyshka. Vampires have mates. Like husbands and wives but only stronger. It is an unbreakable bond between vampires and like love at first sight for many,” he said deeply, looking into her eyes. “It is sacred, and what every vampire aspires for.”

Alina blinked and processed the information. Vampires had mates …. She had so many thoughts and feelings and questions about this particular subject but he continued on before she could voice any. 

“I changed Zoya next, in the fifteenth century, because again, Ivan asked me to. He had shielded his thoughts from me, which was strange. It was only after I changed her that I learned that he hoped she would become my mate.” 

Alina let out a growl and Aleksander laughed in amusement. 

“Calm yourself, moya koshechka. You are so adorable when you are mad,” he said affectionately. He kissed her lips and tweaked her clit, making her squirm. “Neither one of us were interested. Ivan had only wanted me to have a companion. Anyways, she found her mate, Nikolai not so long after. He left another coven to join us. He is the one who is able to influence others, remember?” 

Alina nodded. 

“Genya was next,” he began and Alina’s heart skipped a beat at that name again. “We found her in what is now Ukraine during the sixteenth century, about to be executed for witchcraft. The townspeople were scared of her because she had visions and could predict future events. I saw the potential, naturally, and changed her the day she was supposed to be burned at the stake.” 

Alina frowned. 

“Were you two lovers?” 

He raised his eyebrows at her. 

“Why do you ask, Alinochka? Are you jealous of Genya?” 

She growled in response. 

His eyes sparkled in amusement. 

He lifted her all the way off his cock and Alina let out a disgruntled noise before he laid her back down on the carpet. 

He knelt before her, entered her in one deep thrust and began to fuck her in earnest with his hands holding her wrists down. 

She gasped at the feeling. Unable to speak. Eyes practically rolling back in her head. 

“Yes, my little jealous kitten. Genya and I were lovers for a short time.” 

Alina growled and tried to push him off of her with her feet. 

He chuckled at her antics, kept her pinned beneath him, cock buried in her, but said seriously. 

“The problem, Alinochka, was that both Genya and I knew we were only fucking out of boredom while we waited for our own mates. When she saw a vision of her mate David as a human in London, we stopped immediately and she went looking for him. She changed him, he joined us, and that was the end of that.” 

“Is she very beautiful?” Alina asked, immaturely. 

“In the way that all vampires are,” he said, patiently. “But as I said to you before Alina, you are the most beautiful, most radiant, most exquisite woman I have ever met in my very long existence. You are my little Russian doll, my ice princess, made especially just for me.” 

She squirmed around his cock and he resumed fucking her. 

“Are we mates then?” Alina gasped, after a moment. Surely, they couldn’t not be. 

Aleksander froze at her words. Turning into a statue before her. 

Slowly, he pulled out of her. 

She felt the loss immediately. 

After a long, tense moment he spoke, serious. 

“What do you think?”

Alina slowly sat up and looked up at him through her lashes. 

“The way I feel about you is not fleeting, Aleksander,” she murmured. “Everything about you calls to everything inside of me. I don’t care that you have done bad things. That there is darkness inside of you. If we aren’t mates, then I don’t believe in true love.”

The moment the words were out of her mouth, Aleksander cradled her flushed cheeks with his large hands and kissed her long and hard. 

“Alina,” he breathed reverently, overwhelmed. “Moya angel. My mate. Yes, I knew you were mine from the first moment I laid eyes on you.”

“Really?” she said, eyes wide. 

He nodded. 

“Standing there on that bridge like a goddess. Your scent and light calling to me and my darkness like a beacon. The others had told me before, what it was like. I had seen it in all of their heads, what seeing their mate for the first time was like. But I was still shocked, how all of my priorities shifted at that moment. How my existence suddenly revolved around you.”

Alina could only stare, eyes wide. 

“It was avoir un coup de foudre,” he continued, cupping her cheeks. 

Alina couldn’t help it. She started to cry. It was overwhelming. She couldn’t believe that he  felt the same passion, the same reverence, the same soul-binding attraction towards her that she felt for him. 

The phrase he used, avoir un coup de foudre, meant love at first sight. But more literally, it meant a lightning strike. It was a saying Alina had heard all her life. It was in films and books, she’d overheard humans talk about it with their friends countless times, seeking it for themselves, and even as a child her Aunt Ana had told Alina that her parents, Alina’s grandparents, Antoine and Annchi, had fallen in love like that. Instantly and unshakably. 

But even as a child Alina had known she was different. She’d never thought anyone would feel that way about her. 

“Don’t cry, malyshka,” Aleksander murmured, distressed at her tears. Large fingers swiped the wetness on her cheeks. 

She shook her head. 

“I thought I was destined to be alone,” she admitted. Telling him her deepest and darkest fear. 

Aleksander huffed out a laugh. 

“So did I. I gave up hope of finding my mate long ago. Especially while watching the ease at which my coven-mates did. I thought it was penance for all the terrible things I’ve done. Little did I know, I just needed to wait a thousand years,” he chuckled.  

Alina traced a finger along one of his strong brows. 

“I’m sorry I made you wait so long,” she murmured. 

He smiled softly and kissed her swollen lips. 

“You were worth the wait.”

Alina felt her cheeks grow pink at his words. Her heart felt just about ready to burst out of her chest in happiness. Aleksander’s large hands found her own, twining their fingers together tightly. 

She looked up at her new mate shyly.

“I love you, Aleksander. I’m in love with you. These last few months have been the best of my life. I’ve never felt so happy before, so at home with someone.” 

She watched as Aleksander’s relaxed face grew serious at her words. 

He swallowed thickly in an oddly human mannerism. 

“Alina,” he murmured, squeezing their hands. “My brave, curious, sweet girl. I adore you. I love you with every fiber of my immortal being. You are my life now.” 

Alina blinked away tears at his words. She’d remember this moment for eternity; it was the start of something new. Something meant to be. Something a thousand years in the making and written in the stars. 

Behind Aleksander, the Parisian night sky shone through the open window. Usually clouded over with pollution and city lights, Alina saw the strangest thing. Twinkling stars, surrounding the silhouette of Aleksander, and decorating him with a winking, silver crown. 

She smiled at her destiny.

Not long later, after another bout of feverish love-making, the pair of lovers lay twined together naked on the velvet chaise lounge like some kind of classical sculpture depicting Hades and Persephone or Eros and Psyche. 

The fire had died down long ago and only the smoldering embers remained. 

Outside, night began to lighten, the first signs of dawn approaching.

Alina trailed her fingers over Aleksander’s features. Committing them to memory. His strong masculine brow, straight nose, perfectly-carved cheekbones. His neat beard. 

One of Aleksander’s hands traced the notches of her spine, ghosting his fingers over the dimples at the base. 

In the sacred silence, Aleksander murmured. 

“Call me Sasha.” 

Chapter Text

November 

Paris 

The weekend passed by as expected– with lots of vampire sex. 

Friday gave way to Saturday, and Saturday gave way to Sunday.

On late Sunday morning, a young delivery man had shown up with crates of a selection of Alina’s favorite cheeses, pain au chocolats and croissants, raw steaks, foie gras, caviar, red wine, a box of ready-made dumplings, and two quarts of venison blood. 

When Alina came downstairs after a shower, silver hair still damp and naked skin still slightly flushed from the hot water, she stopped short. 

“What is this?” she asked, dumbly. 

Aleksander stood in the kitchen, wearing only a pair of worn Levis that sat impossibly low on his hips, putting away the groceries in the modern kitchen. Alina was admittedly distracted. The domestic scene did something to her. Her eyes darkened.

“I didn’t want you to be hungry, malyshka,” he explained. “So I ordered you a few things.”

At the reminder, Alina’s throat burned uncomfortably. She had not fed in a long while and she had exerted a lot of energy this weekend. 

She flitted to his side and opened the container of blood. 

She greedily gulped down the still warm blood from the container and moaned at its rich, gamey taste. So thirsty, she paid no mind to the rivets of blood that ran down her bare chest. 

Beside her, she heard Aleksander growl but ignored him as she continued to drink. When the container was empty, she pulled away with a satisfied moan and licked her lips. 

Aleksander backed her into the kitchen island with dark eyes. His arms caged her in. 

Eyes still on her, he leaned down to lick each rivet of blood on her chest, trailing up all the way to the corner of her mouth. 

She moaned when along the way, he sucked on one nipple. 

“Naughty girl, wasting blood,” he murmured. 

Turning her around, he pressed her chest into the cool white marble. When her face pressed against the side of the stone, she mewled. 

When she heard the fastening of his jeans, he heart rate sped up in anticipation.  

Aleksander chuckled. 

“Hold on, milaya." 

Pussy already so wet for him, she did as her mate commanded and curled her ballet slipper pink fingers against the edge of the marble. 

In one thrust, Aleksander entered her. 

“Sasha,” she choked in shock. 

The full length and girth of him inside of her with little foreplay did hurt.  

Alina’s forehead banged into the counter at another one of Aleksander’s hard thrusts and the sound was like thunder. A deep crack appeared in the stone. 

Neither one of them cared. 

It wasn’t the first crack, and it wouldn’t be the last. 

Alina was proud of herself, she really was. 

She’d managed to stay awake all of Friday, Saturday and Sunday. 

Everytime she felt a moment's fatigue, at the sight of Aleksander, the overwhelming sensation of lust had overtaken her and distracted her. It was crazy, she thought. How Aleksander had this effect on her. It made her feel the most animalistic she’d ever felt. It’s normal, he’d reminded her. We’ve just mated, our instincts are telling us to fuck . 

But now, just two days later, after dozens and dozens of orgasms, Alina’s eyelids drooped uncontrollably. 

She didn’t need to sleep as often or as long as a regular human, but she did need to sleep. 

She’d experimented when she was young. The longest she’d ever been able to go without sleeping was a week. And by the end of it, she’d been an absolute terror. She was grumpy and snappish, and on the seventh day she’d fallen asleep in the convent’s library and slept for fourteen hours straight, missing the morning prayers. The nuns had all collectively sighed in relief when she had finally succumbed to dreamland. 

It was two in the morning on Sunday night, or Monday morning really, when she finally told Aleksander that she wanted to go to sleep. 

He just blinked at her. Absolutely stupefied. 

“You want to go to sleep?” 

She nodded from where she sat naked curled up in his lap like a kitten. The balcony doors were open again, ushering in a cool breeze and the curtains floated back and forth. They could hear the faint sounds of the cityscape outside, although most Parisians were fast asleep in their beds. 

“Yes,” she groaned. “I’m absolutely exhausted.”

“You can sleep?” he asked, burgundy eyes disbelieving. 

It was her turn to blink. 

“You can’t? ” 

How had they not covered this, already? 

“No, Alina,” he said, amazed. “I can’t sleep. No vampire can.” 

She blushed. 

“Oh. I suppose it’s another one of my quirks.” 

He just sighed in what she thought was contentment and scooped her up like a bride. 

He kicked the balcony doors closed and carried her upstairs, a full circle moment from only a couple days before. 

At the state of his bedroom, he sat her carefully on the desk as he speedily changed the sheets. The headboard had been lost and he shoved the large pieces of walnut wood in the corner of the room. 

Alina yawned, covering her mouth with a hand. 

Aleksander fluffed the pillows, discarding the ones that had been split open by Alina’s fingernails. 

“Will this suit?” he asked her. 

She nodded, smiling at his efforts. 

“ Oui, I know from experience that your bed is tres comfortable.” 

He chuckled. 

“But I don’t like sleeping naked,” she said as he picked her up and carried her to the bed. 

He raised a dark eyebrow at her. 

“I know, I know. It’s silly. But do you have anything I can wear?” 

“I’m sure I can find something,” he murmured, setting her down and heading to his closet. 

He rifled through for a moment, hangers scraping against each other, before pulling out a plain navy t-shirt. He held it up for her inspection. 

Alina nodded at the soft cotton.

Aleksander returned to the bed and helped her into the shirt. When he was done, he went to turn the lights off and as he went to close the balcony doors, she stopped him. 

“I like the sounds.” 

He just smiled softly at her and joined her in bed. 

She sighed in contentment as she snuggled herself against his bare chest, so cool beneath her touch. She used his bicep as a pillow. 

“I can’t believe I didn’t know that you can sleep , Alina,” he murmured into the dark after a moment. His fingers played with her hair. 

Alina smiled softly against his chest sleepily.

“I wish it made sense,” she said, yawning. “Why I can sleep. Why my nails and hair grow but everything else about me is frozen in time. Why I can just absorb human food along with blood. Why I’m weirdly warmer than both you and humans. Why I can cry, but don’t sweat. Why my heart beats.” 

“It’s my favorite sound in the whole world,” Aleksander murmured. “The sound of your heartbeat.”

Alina smiled against his skin. 

“Can you dream? ” 

She smiled again and ran a finger up and down his chest rhythmically.  

“Yes.” After a moment, she added, “I’ve dreamt about you.”

Beside her, Aleksander froze. 

“Really?” 

Alina nodded against him, eyelids fluttering.

“Mhhh. Shrouded in darkness and snow, so handsome and regal,” she sighed. “Looking for me. Trying to find me.”  

Aleksander grew quiet. The silence hung between them. 

After a moment he spoke. 

“I finally found you. And if I slept Alina, I would dream of you too. Of that, I have no doubt.”

On Monday morning, Alina was more than a little reluctant to leave Aleksander’s townhouse. 

Especially because he was licking her pussy. 

“Sasha. I have to go,” she moaned half-heartedly from her reclining position on the chaise lounge. 

It seemed like Aleksandser couldn’t seem to get enough of tasting her. 

She’d lost count of how many times his mouth had been on her pussy. It was so sexy, so utterly hot . Alina had overheard time-time-again from human women how a lot of human men didn’t like going down on them. Didn’t like the taste.

Aleksander had no such qualms. Actually, he seemed to revel in it. 

Especially when he said things like, “you taste like the sweetest nectar,” or “even better than blood,” and “I could taste you for days.” Alina didn’t think he was kidding about the last one. 

She gasped as he flicked her clit with his tongue. 

“I know,” he said. “One more orgasm for me, koshechka. Be a good girl for me. I know you can do it.” 

Alina mewled and threw her head back onto the velvet cushion.

Two fingers entered her with a wet squelch. Aleksander curled his fingers up and found her most sensitive place. He pressed there twice. 

“Ugh!” she cried as she came around his fingers, legs and arms trembling in release. 

He chuckled as she came down, kissing her forehead. 

“Remind me why I have to go,” she begged. 

He laughed darkly. 

“Because you have class this morning and you’re presenting a fascinating argument about how Diane de Poitier was far more influential than Catherine de Medici at the French court, which was true, by the way, and you think she should be studied at greater length by historians, and specifically queer scholars, for her notable female relationships.” 

She groaned and sat up. 

Aleksander kissed her. 

“Will you come over to mine later?” she asked, looking up at him with big eyes.

He tucked a fair lock of hair behind her ear. 

“As if I could stay away.” 

She smiled softly and her heart melted at his words. 

“I’ll miss you,” she said, somewhat shyly, looking at him through her lashes.

Aleksander smiled softly and kissed her forehead. 

She reluctantly got off the chaise lounge and turned to head upstairs to find her no-doubt mangled clothing. Pulling her to back to him, his chest against her back, Aleksander halted her progress.

One arm encircled her petite waist and the other found a nipple, pulling it lightly. He whispered in her ear lowly. 

“When I come over tonight, my darling Alina, I expect you to be waiting for me, eager for my cock after a day spent apart from your mate.” 

Alina let out a little breathy moan and leaned her head against his shoulder. 

Her pussy ached for him, again. She contemplated, not for the first time, blowing off her seminar so that she could stay here with him. 

He chuckled and kissed her temple, like he knew where her thoughts were headed. 

“Now be a good girl and run along to school.” 

With a light pat to her bare backside, Alina scampered upstairs. 

An hour and a half later, Alina flew down the stairs of her flat. She had made a quick stop to pick up her laptop and readings, and even more importantly, to change out of her old clothes. 

Her La Perla bra and panties were unsalvageable and so were her tights from when Aleksander had ripped them off of her on Friday. So only her turtleneck and mini had survived the weekend. 

As she bounded down the street in her favorite Levis, leopard print Sézane sweater, white sneakers for a change and a beret to hide her messy sex-hair and camel coat, there was a skip in her step, a glint in her eye, and people moved out of her way to stare. 

She couldn’t help it! 

She was in love, had just had an obscene amount of the most incredible toe-curling, mind-obliterating, heart-pounding sex of her life and she discovered she had a mate. 

Nothing could ruin her mood. 

Alina was wrong. 

Her seminar had indeed ruined her perfect mood. She found it absolutely torturous. 

Listening to presentations from stuttering humans about the sixteenth-century French court while she so desperately longed to be with Aleksander. 

Not for the first time did she resent her studies. They felt so trivial now. Why should she care about studying the sixteenth-century when she could just ask Aleksander all about that century herself?

Truthfully, the only reason that she was completing another masters degree was because she had been bored last spring and had applied for the program. She had wanted something new to occupy her mind. But now, with Aleksander, she didn’t need a distraction anymore. 

The moment the seminar was over, Alina was already heading out the door. A few of her classmates blinked at her dumbly as she passed by. 

True to her word, when Aleksander arrived at her flat that evening, she was waiting for him, already aching and wet for him after a day without him and wearing a little blush colored nightgown edged with cream-colored French lace that barely brushed the tops of her thighs.

She’d lit candles, opened the windows to allow some fresh air in, put a Françiose Hardy record on and opened a bottle of wine in preparation for him. The moment he arrived on her balcony, wearing all black and looking like, well him, they were upon one another. 

Their mating, still so new and fragile, seemed to demand this closeness. 

For two hours and sixteen minutes they fucked on every surface imaginable. The couch, the leather chair, on the counter, on the floor, against the wall and finally, in Alina’s bed. It seemed like both of them wanted to christen their living spaces, their mixed scents mingling in the air, creating the most perfect perfume.

Later, as Aleksander drew the bath, Alina sat naked on the edge, nibbling on a chocolate covered madeleine from Poliane, (Aleksander had brought them over for her; he knew they were her favorite) and watched as he poured a truly huge amount of her lavender bubble bath into the scalding water, with a soft smile. She’d dimmed the lights and lit a few of her favorite candles which bathed the bathroom in a cozy glow. 

Alina sipped a glass of cabernet sauvignon from one of her wine glasses. She watched in amusement as fluffy piles of bubbles started to form and giggled when Aleksander seemed alarmed by the growing mountain of bubbles. 

“Fuck,” he cursed, turning off the water at the brass tap to stop the bubbles from overflowing over the edge of the tub. 

Alina stood up and twisted her messy hair into a claw clip. She kicked off her fuzzy pink slippers and Aleksander held out a hand to her. She grasped it before stepping into the deliciously hot water. 

“Thank you,” she said, beaming at him.

“You’re very welcome, zhizn moya.”  

Alina sighed in pleasure as she sunk into the scalding water. Aleksander followed and sat facing her across the tub. Outside, the rain pelted against the windows creating the coziest autumnal ambiance. 

“What does that mean? Zhizn moya? ” she asked, trying to replicate the sound on her lips. He nodded in approval at her pronunciation. 

“Very good. It’s Russian for ‘my life.’ It’s a very serious term of endearment, used only by husbands and wives.” 

Alina smiled softly, loving its meaning, and filed the nickname away so she could use it later. 

She swirled her toes in the bubbly water before resting them on Aleksander’s thighs. She closed her eyes and rested her neck against the edge of the tub. She sighed in contentment. 

A few moments passed. 

Then suddenly, Aleksander sat straight up in the tub, spilling water and bubbles onto the tiled floor. 

“Oof,” Alina said, eyes flying open as she was jostled. 

“Sasha?” she asked, concerned at Aleksander’s wide gaze. 

“Alina,” he murmured, seriously. “I didn’t even think to ask. Are you fertile?” 

Alina blinked. 

“I mean, is there a chance that you could get…?” he trailed off. 

Alina’s heart clenched. 

“No,” she murmured. “I don’t get periods.” 

“Oh,” he said, body growing less rigid. 

“Does that make you happy or sad?” she asked, curiously.

He sunk back into the water so that only his head was visible. 

“For a thousand years, I’ve known that fatherhood is not a possibility for me,” he said, shrugging. “But I won’t lie and say that having a child with you wouldn’t be the greatest joy of my existence.” 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, heart breaking. She wished that she could provide that for him, but knew she couldn’t. 

While she was still part-human, Alina had never ever gotten a period. Her body was strange of course, full of many paradoxes, but she knew in her heart that she would never have a baby. 

“No Alina, don’t be sorry. I didn’t think it was possible. I just wanted to make sure, given that your body is unique. I realized last night that there are many things about you that I still need to learn.”

Alina nodded and smiled softly. 

“Don’t worry, Sasha. We have forever to learn about one another.”

“Sasha,” Alina murmured into the silence. 

It was three in the morning and they had finally made it to bed. Alina’s cheeks were still pink from the reverse cowgirl they’d just finished. She blushed just thinking about the thumb that had ghosted over her most taboo spot during their lovemaking. She somewhat-guiltily looked forward to exploring that first with Aleksander in the future, although the Catholic girl inside her was already asking for penance.

Beneath blush colored silk sheets, Alina’s head rested on Aleksander’s chest and his muscular arms circled her. The rain continued to beat across the windows, creating the perfect soundtrack to their evening. 

“Hmm?” he responded, stroking up her spine rhythmically. 

Alina bit her lip. 

“I wasn’t fully honest with you before. About my father.” 

Beneath her, Aleksander stilled. 

“In what way?” 

Alina paused, nervous. 

“I know my father’s name. At least, the one he gave to my mother.” She paused. “She left me a letter before she died. His name was, or is, Alexei.” 

Aleksander didn’t say anything for a long moment. 

There was a loaded silence between them. 

“I know,” he said, finally. Calmly.

“You do? How?” Alina demanded, looking up at him in the dark bedroom. 

“I deduced it. The first time we met, you told me your father was Russian. That narrowed down the options of vampires significantly. Then, when you invited me here for the first time, you mentioned that your father must have your hair color. I suspected then. Alexei is Russian and has silver hair just like you. And he is very old, older than me, and known for having unparalleled self-control which makes him one of the only vampires in existence who could likely sire a child.” 

“You know him?” Alina breathed in shock. She couldn’t believe it. 

“Yes,” Aleksander said. “I have met him a number of times. He is a decent man, although the company he keeps is… a hindrance.” 

“What do you mean?” Alina asked, hung on his words. 

He brushed his thumb against the apple of her cheek.

“Do you remember a couple months ago when I told you about the coven who rules over the vampire world? The Lantsovs? Who live in a palace in Siberia with their guard of talented vampires.” 

Alina nodded. Aleksander had explained the vampire ruling system to her in October over cups of Angelina’s chocolat chaud whilst sitting on a park bench. The revelation that there was a vampire coven who ruled over their world was not a conversation she would ever forget.

“Their leader, Pyotr, is the one who can mind-read through touch. He is power hungry and would do anything to collect talented vampires. He has tried to collect myself, Genya and Ivan to his coven. I have read his thoughts many times. Although he tries to hide it, I know that he fears me, fears that I am raising a coven to challenge his leadership. But he doesn’t rule solely on his own. He has two ‘brothers’ who rule alongside him, Vladim and Alexei.” 

“Oh,” Alina said, shocked. 

“Yes. Alexei is a Lantsov. He has the unique ability to sense the gift of  a vampire, which is very useful to their coven. It makes it easier to collect talented vampires. He’s their strategist. He used to have a mate, Ziva, but she died hundreds of years ago in a vampire war. She was beautiful, as all immortals are, and, forgive me, but bore a remarkable resemblance to your mother,” he said, gesturing to the photo of Alina’s mother, Alizée, that was stuck to Alina’s golden-framed mirror. Her mother was all high-cheekbones, thick, shiny dark locks, full lips and a gorgeously vibrant smile. Almost the spitting image of Alina, minus the blonde hair. 

“Oh,” Alina said again. Devastated. 

“Yes,” Aleksander murmured. “I suspect that your mother reminded him of Ziva.” 

Alina swallowed heavily. 

“Do you think he would want to know about me?” 

“He would be a fool not to, Alinochka. If you want to meet him, I will take you to Siberia myself.” 

Alina’s heart thrummed like a hummingbird. Aleksander pulled her closer in comfort. 

“Would that be wise?” she whispered. 

Aleksander didn’t answer for a long while. 

“I would never stop you from meeting your father,” he said. “But it does present some risks.” 

“In what way?” she asked. 

“They would want you to join their coven. For your relation with Alexei of course, but also because you are totally and completely unique. As a vampire-human, you would be the crown jewel in their collection of extraordinary vampires.”

“They would try and separate us?” she murmured. 

“As mates, they wouldn’t dare. Even the Lantsovs do not separate mates. They would want both of us. Pyotr would certainly be happy to have us both so close.” 

Aleksander hesitated. 

“It’s also possible that with your introduction to the Lantsovs, they may want to try their hand at making more vampires like you, Alina.” 

She blinked. 

“You mean they would want to try and impregnate humans?” 

“I wouldn’t put it past Pyotr and Vladim.”

Alina felt suddenly ill. She’d always wondered about her father. Wondered who he was and what sort of man he was like. But everything that Aleksander told her about the Lantsovs made her want to be sick. 

“I want to meet him one day,” she decided, slowly. “But not now. I’ve waited this long, I can wait a bit longer.” 

Aleksander nodded. 

Alina took a deep breath before continuing.

“I’ve decided that I am going to take a leave of absence at university.” 

Aleksander was silent for a moment. 

“And why is that, lapushka? ” 

Alina huffed out a little laugh.

“Because I am not interested in my studies anymore. I want to be with you… and I think I want to travel,” she admitted. “And then, I’d like to meet your family.” 

Aleksander smiled and kissed her shoulder. 

“They’re dying to meet you.”

“Really?” she asked, perking up. “You’ve told them about me?” 

Aleksander chuckled. 

“Of course, koshechka. They, too, have waited a long time for me to find my mate. Genya, in particular, is ecstatic. She saw our meeting on the bridge and is already preparing for our return.” 

Alina tried to tamp down the jealousy that arose at Genya’s name. She knew that neither had romantic feelings for one another anymore, but still, she hated to think of Aleksander with anyone else, unfair as that might be given his age. 

“She really saw our first meeting?” she asked. Slightly unnerved that their first encounter wasn’t really private after all. 

“Yes,” he said. “She saw my future change when I met you. Do you remember how my phone rang on the bridge? That was her. Since then, she’s been pestering me for details about you. I’ve told her that she has to be patient.” 

Alina smiled softly against his shoulder. 

“I’ll take you anywhere you want to go,” Aleksander continued. “I’ll show you the world. But there’s something I want to do first, if you agree.” 

“Oh?” Alina asked. 

Aleksander’s white teeth flashed in the dark. 

“Yes. I want to get married.” 

Alina blinked. 

“Married? Is that something that vampires do?” 

“The concept of mating will always be stronger than marriage to vampires… but I find myself to be a bit of a traditionalist. I’d like to call you my wife, in addition to my mate.”

Alina’s heart skipped a beat. 

“I think I’d like calling you ‘husband,’” she said shyly with a little smile. It was like all of her Austen and Bronte fantasies were coming true. 

“Is that a yes?” he asked, mouth brushing against her jaw. 

Alina raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. 

“Was that a proposal?” she responded. “That’s not how Mr. Darcy did it.” 

Aleksander chuckled but sobered quickly. 

“Alina Séjour,” he began, tightening his arms around her. “For over a thousand years, I quietly hoped to find a mate. I waited and waited. Eventually, as everyone around me found their own, I started to believe that I was destined to be alone, forever. I told myself that I was content with my family. That my duty in life was to protect and lead them. Until one day in Paris, when I left my family because I couldn’t bear to be around three happily mated couples any longer, constantly seeing and hearing how happy they were, but ended up in the City of Love because I’m a glutton for punishment, I saw a girl who looked like the sun. She lit up the bridge, has lit up the city everywhere she’s gone, and she’s lit up my existence. Suddenly, it’s like the last thousand years have been in black-and-white and now everything’s in technicolor. The truth is, you were worth the wait, malshyka, and I would’ve waited a thousand more years if it meant getting to be with you, even just for a single moment.

“Alina, zhizn moya , my heart, my life. I promise to love you for eternity and protect you with my life. That is my oath to you, and I would be honored if you accepted my proposal and became Alina Morozova, moya printsessa . My wife.” 

Alina blinked back tears at Aleksander’s words. 

“Sasha,” she murmured, reverently and overwhelmed, stroking his cheek. She didn’t know what she could possibly say to that .

 “Yes,” she finally murmured, smiling. “I’ll marry you.” 

He claimed her lips in a searing kiss. 

“Good,” he growled, trying to push up the hem of her nightgown. She batted his hands away. 

“I want to get married in a church,” she said. 

Aleksander stilled. 

“A church?” he said, incredulously. Like she was speaking a foreign language. 

Alina nodded. 

“Because I’m Catholic, remember?”

“How could I forget,” he grumbled and Alina pinched his side. 

“And I want a ring,” she continued. “Nothing too big or gaudy but–”

“Oh, I have a ring,” Aleksander said, interrupting her. 

Alina blinked in surprise. 

“You do?” 

He hummed. 

“Yes, but we’ll have to go and get it,” he said. 

Alina looked at him, not understanding. 

“Where is it?” 

He smiled wolfishly and his teeth flashed in the dark.

“Russia.”

Chapter Text

December: Part 1

“Are you nervous?” Alina asked Aleksander from the passenger seat of the sleek black Audi. The buttery leather beneath her smooth against her tights. 

“No,” he responded. 

But Alina saw his knuckles flex on the steering wheel in a very non-vampire gesture. 

She sat back in her seat with a secretive little smile and looked out the window. Around her was a blur of winter landscape. 

It had changed some time ago. The cityscape was left behind for the beauty of the French countryside. Even in late December, it was lovely. The snow dusted mountains and hills, bare trees and country châteaux in the distance with tendrils of smoke coming out of the chimneys. 

This was a turning point. 

Alina had packed up her flat in Paris and given her plants to her neighbors. Her furniture had been covered with white sheets. Her favorite winter clothes were with her, plus her modest trousseau, packed up in the suitcase that currently resided in the trunk of the car. 

She and Aleksander had left Paris, and were beginning a new chapter. 

Together. 

It was exhilarating, yet slightly terrifying. 

As the long drive passed in compatible silence, Alina grew more excited the closer they got to their destination. When she saw the road sign for the Parc Naturel Regional du Morvan, she was nearly vibrating. They passed frosty vineyards and lightly snow covered fields, driving further and further into the quiet hills of Burgundy. 

“Turn here,” she directed when they reached a junction on a little hill. 

Aleksander turned right and continued down the twisting country lane at his fast pace. They drove through a wooded area for nearly ten minutes when they finally emerged from the trees and saw it in the distance. 

“Et voila,” Alina said, gesturing proudly. “Abbaye du Cœur Saignant. Home.” 

“Funny,” Aleksander murmured at the name.

The Romanesque abbey with its light grey stones stood out dramatically against the winter landscape. The imposing medieval structure boasted multiple towers and beautifully ornate archways that had survived countless wars and invaders. The abbey had been founded in the 700s, but later rebuilt in the Romanesque style in the 1100s. It was truly a miracle that it remained standing in all its original glory– especially given the fact that it was occupied by Nazis during World War II. But alas, the Germans hadn’t wanted to destroy the abbey, they’d wanted the vineyards. 

It’s so beautiful, Alina thought not for the first time. She was lucky to have grown up here. Playing in the vineyards, eating sour grapes and hunting in the forest, with space to run free and be herself– surrounded by incredibly hard working women.

“I can’t believe you’re older than these stones,” Alina teased as they drove closer to the abbey. 

Aleksander shot her an exasperated look that only made her grin. 

Aleksander parked along the cobbles near the abbey, although in truth it looked far more like a fortress, and they stepped out of the luxury car into the frosty air. Alina smoothed down the lapels of her black wool wrap-coat and tightened its belt around her waist. 

Only a few minutes passed before they saw the huge wooden doors of the courtyard open upon their arrival– the nuns were notoriously private and did not often allow visitors. There was always a Sister waiting to deter unexpected guests. 

A lone figure wearing casual jeans, a black puffer jacket and a pair of dark green wellies emerged and approached them. Some might be surprised that the nuns of this convent didn’t wear habits, but they were unconventional women to say the least. 

Alina recognized her Aunt Anaas the figure approaching and smiled. 

“Bonsoir, Auntie,” Alina called into the cold. Around them, flurries had begun to fall. 

Alina saw the surprise cross her Aunt’s face before she smiled. 

“Alina, cherie! I wasn’t expecting you for a few more days, at least.” 

“I’m sorry for not calling first,” Alina said at her aunt’s approach. “But we just couldn’t wait.” 

As her aunt neared them, both Alina and Aleksander noticed when Ana’s heart rate sped up and watched the trepidation change her beautiful, if not aging, face at the sight of Aleksander. His otherworldliness was undeniable.  

“Alina, who is this?” her aunt asked, calmly. Up close, Alina could see that her aunt had two new soft lines of crow's feet around her eyes. Despite them, her aunt was still beautiful, boasting long, thick, shiny black locks, full lips and espresso colored eyes just like her own. Not for the first time did Alina imagine that this is what her mother Alizée would look like if she still lived. 

“Auntie,” Alina started, suddenly nervous. “This is Aleksander Morozov. My fiancé.” 

“Well, I think that went rather well,” Alina said to Aleksander under her breath. 

They sat in the large dining hall, at a long wooden table surrounded by grey stone walls and roaring fireplaces. A large Christmas tree stood in the corner decorated with lights and garland, no doubt felled from the woodlands nearby. Prayers were finished and dinner service was in full force. The younger sisters were serving food and wine to the more senior ones. 

It was a role that Alina was very familiar with because she had done it often in the years that she had lived here. 

“Hmm,” Aleksander hummed, eyes studying the room. “I’m not so sure. Your aunt has decided not to try to kill me but Sister Mathilde is considering pouring a bucket of holy water on me. Seems to think that the water may melt me.” 

Alina snorted and patted his hand before taking a sip of her wine. It was absolutely divine.  

“Don’t worry, mon amour. I’ll make sure the scary nuns don’t hurt you.”

Aleksander huffed. 

One of the younger sisters, one that Alina did not know very well, Margaux, approached nervously and set down a bowl of steaming boeuf bourguignon and basket of bread in front of Alina. When she went to do the same for Aleksander, he shook his head. 

“None for him, Sister,” Alina said, smiling. “But thank you.” 

The young girl scurried away. 

Men, historically, were very rarely allowed into the abbey. That even included priests and monks, in a very non-traditional, and slightly controversial move. Again, the nuns at Cœur Saignant were very content to run the abbey by themselves, with little interference from the outside. Generally, the women of this abbey were more comfortable without the presence of men, given their traumatic pasts. Most of the women at the abbey were survivors of sexual assault and had come to the abbey looking for a safe space. It had been that way ever since the Medieval era. Women here were given the freedom to heal, forge sisterhoods and gain independence at the abbey, without the interference of men. 

Amongst the nuns, it was even rumored that the abbey had hosted Joan of Arc in 1430 for two nights as she evaded the Burgundians who wanted to turn her over to the English. 

So the fact that Aleksander was here, invited to dinner by Abbess Agathe, was a very good sign. It was a testament to the fact that the sisters trusted Alina, and knew that she would never bring danger into this sacred space. Before dinner, all of the sisters had been discreetly notified that a man would be joining them, and while a few sisters had decided to eat in their rooms, the majority had stayed. 

Most of the older nuns knew of Alina’s unique nature, but the younger ones only knew Alina as Ana’s niece who occasionally stayed at the abbey during holidays. So there were very many curious yet covert looks at the attractive couple. 

Some of the younger sisters couldn’t even look at Aleksander without blushing and quickly looking away to Alina’s amusement. She had a feeling many of them would be reciting Hail Marys later in penance. 

Ana joined them after a few minutes, sitting down across from them and Alina smiled softly at her aunt– the no-nonsense, fiery woman who had raised her and the chief winemaker of the abbey because of her exquisite palette. 

Years ago, before Ana had come to the abbey, she had been studying viticulture in Dijon. But after she had been sexually assaulted by one of her trusted professors, she dropped out of the program. She had heard whispers about the abbey that took women in, about its wonderful vineyards, and out of curiosity, had visited. That was twenty five years ago and she’d never left. Ana had found god and discovered her joy in winemaking again. 

In fact, her wines were some of the most sought after in France. The vineyards here were incredible, boasting a unique terroir that produced the most flavorful, smooth and complex red wines that Alina had ever tasted. Winemakers and wine fanatics constantly reached out to Ana, wanting to tour the winery and see her methods, but the nuns were private. They sold small batches of the wines because it paid for the maintenance of the abbey and drank the rest. 

After all, the nuns here valued their privacy above all else. 

“So, when is the wedding?” Ana asked, after taking her first bite of the stew. 

Alina followed suit, chewing on the tender, yet rather flavorless meat. 

“We’re getting married on Christmas Day,” Aleksander supplied, while Alina ate. “Just outside of Saint Petersburg.” 

Ana’s full, dark eyebrows rose in surprise and she looked at Alina.

“And that’s what you want, cherie? A wedding on Christ’s birthday? In a country that you’ve never been to?” 

Alina hesitated but nodded. She knew that her Aunt would have questions. 

“Oui, Auntie.” 

“Why not do it here? With us?” 

Alina felt the guilt curdle in her stomach. Initially, Alina had considered getting married here at the abbey. It was her childhood home after all. But… for some inexplicable reason, Alina wanted the wedding to be between Aleksander and herself only. A quiet and intimate elopement. 

“I want to get married in Russia,” she explained softly, glancing at Aleksander. “It’s Aleksander’s home and… he’s been waiting a long time for this day. We’ll still be getting married in a church, though.” 

Ana’s soulful brown eyes, twins to Alina’s own, turned to Aleksander curiously. 

“How long?” she asked, with a raised eyebrow. 

Aleksander paused, studying her aunt. Likely reading her thoughts. 

“I have waited a very long time to meet my other half, Sister…. Longer than these stones have stood,” he said lowly, gesturing to the room.

Ana reared back in shock. Her eyes were wide with fear. 

“Mon Dieu.” 

“Aleksander is like me,” Alina whispered to her Aunt, clasping her clammy hands across the table. She regretted not having this conversation in private after dinner. “We will be together, always. He will take care of me.” 

Ana looked at Aleksander long and hard, eyes intense. After a few long moments, she spoke. 

“I promised my twin sister Alizée on her deathbed that I would take care of Alina,” she began, softly but steady. “It is a responsibility that I have never taken lightly due to Alina’s nature. I have done my best to raise her and protect her, even though there are parts of her I don’t understand and will never truly understand,” she paused and took a breath. 

“But I confess that sometimes I lie awake at night and worry that when I die, she will be all alone in the world, without a family. Every night since she was born, I have prayed at my bedside that she would find someone– someone like her, to be with forever when I’m gone. Tell me, Aleksander: do you love my Alina as much as I do? And are you worthy of her precious love? She’s special, as you should know, and deserves to be with someone good and kind.”

Alina’s eyes grew glassy at her aunt’s confessions. She could do little but look between her two favorite people. Neither one looked at her, only each other. 

Aleksander remained quiet for a few moments and Alina wondered what he saw in her aunt’s mind. 

Finally he spoke, voice low. 

“I am undoubtedly unworthy of Alina’s love,” he began. “And I have never been known to be good or kind.”

“Aleksander,” Alina murmured in disagreement, but he continued. 

“I have done many things I am ashamed of, and will have to live with for the rest of my existence. But for whatever inexplicable reason, Alina loves me. She has bestowed upon me the greatest gift of my existence with her love and her light, and I do not take this responsibility lightly, either. And while I know that I am unworthy of her, I can promise you with absolute honesty that I will love Alina, forever. That I will protect her with my life, provide for her and support her dreams and wishes. Your heart may bleed for Christ,” he said, referencing the name of the abbey. “But mine bleeds for Alina. She is my world.” 

Alina swallowed thickly at Aleksander’s words while her aunt watched him. Studied him. 

Then, she nodded in finality. 

“If you’ve won over Alina, then you have my blessing. Even as a child she was notoriously stubborn. Once her heart is set on something, there is no changing her mind. Even I’m not a fool enough to try. Congratulations on your engagement. I wish you two a lifetime of happiness.” 

She turned to look at Alina and spoke with heavy emotion. 

“Your mother would be so elated.” 

Alina smiled with watery eyes and clasped her aunt’s hands again. 

“Thank you, Auntie. I love you so much.”

Her aunt smiled. It was watery too. 

“Not as much as I love you, cherie.” 

After dinner, while the rest of the convent was getting ready for bed, Alina took Aleksander to one of her favorite parts of the estate. 

The cloisters. 

Wrapped up in their coats and scarves, they walked arm in arm around the large cobbled courtyard surrounded by beautiful and intricately carved stone arches. When she was little and had read Harry Potter for the first time, Alina had imagined Hogwarts to be a bit like this abbey.

Around them, snow fell, blanketing the mismatched stones in a fine white dust. 

It was quiet and so peaceful. And the air smelled different here than in Paris. It was clean and invigorating. Smelled of pine and snow and dirt. 

“You’re wrong, you know,” Alina said into the silence. 

“About?” Aleksander asked, raising a dark brow. 

“You do deserve my love,” she said. “Just like I deserve yours.” 

Aleksander stayed silent for a long time.  

“While I have told you many things about my past, there are still some moments I am so ashamed of that I do not wish to tell you in fear that you will leave me, Alina.”

Alina stopped at his brutally honest words. 

She shook her head. 

“Impossible,” she murmured, looking into his dark eyes. “I know that you have killed innocents, Sasha. I am not trying to minimize what you have done, but you also told me that you only kill evil, heinous humans now, which I can accept. The reality is that I love you. And I need you. You are my other half– and nothing you have done would turn me away from you, just as I know that you would accept me if roles were reversed.” 

“But don’t you see Alina?” he said, shaking his head. “You are so very good. Better than me, even now. Forgiving me for the things I have done.”

“It is not me that can forgive those things, Sasha,” she said softly. “I don’t have that power. You are the only one who can forgive yourself.” 

He sighed deeply. 

“You are very wise for someone so young.” 

She smiled into the frosty night and gazed up at him. 

Snowflakes stuck to her eyelashes, she went on her tiptoes to kiss him, long and slow. When she pulled away, his eyes were black. 

“Tell me I can come to your room tonight,” he demanded lowly. 

She laughed and pulled away from him. 

“Oh no, monsieur. Even I don’t want to risk the Lord’s wrath by fornicating under his roof.” 

He raised his eyebrows in amusement and she blushed. She knew she wasn’t exactly the most devout Catholic, but still. She wouldn’t be able to fuck Aleksander here without facing internal guilt. 

“I’m not sure I can wait four days to have you,” he said lowly. His look was almost enough to change her mind. 

“Well, I guess it’s good that you’re used to waiting, mon autre,” she whispered into his ear. “Bonne nuit, Sashenka.” 

With a quick kiss, Alina flitted away, leaving Aleksander alone in the courtyard. 

He stood there for a few moments, watching the place she had once been, before sighing and heading in the direction of his very cold, very beak, very Alina-less room. 

The next morning, Alina showed Aleksander around the frosty vineyards. 

Clad in oversized sweaters, jeans and muddy wellies, she pointed out the pinot noir, chardonnay and cabernet vines to him. Past the many acres of grapes, she also showed him the woods that she played and hunted in as a child. 

“I caught my first deer here,” she said, gesturing through the bare trees. Most of the trees had lost their leaves already but squishy chartreuse moss and holly bushes with their emerald leaves and red berries kept the woodlands from looking too bleak. “Aunt Ana was so mad because I got blood all over my new pinafore dress. It had to be thrown away and the nuns are not wasteful women.”

Aleksander smiled fondly at her.

“You were an adorable child. I saw you in your Aunt’s mind last night. Truly like a little angel child with rosy cheeks and big brown eyes. I understand why with one look they all fell in love with you. Just as I did.” 

Alina blushed and took his cool hand. They began the slow trek back towards the abbey because Alina wanted to show him the cellars next.

“I may have looked like an angel, but I tell you I was very naughty. I got in trouble so often when I accidentally broke something because I was too rough with it or when I talked back to a Sister. Once, I put a field mouse under Sister Delphine’s bed and wasn’t allowed bedtime stories for the next month.” 

Aleksander chuckled and shot her an affectionate look. 

“I can’t say that I’m entirely surprised.” 

They walked in compatible silence for a few minutes– the only sound was the crunching gravel under their feet. 

“Why have you never left France before?” Aleksander suddenly asked her, like he couldn’t stand not knowing any longer. “You’ve always wanted to travel but never have. Why?”

Alina bit her lip and glanced at him through her eyelashes.

“I don’t really know,” she said honestly as they walked. “I suppose I was scared to leave France. Scared that if I traveled the world, I would feel even more alone than I did here, maybe? And maybe because I didn’t want to be so far away from my Aunt? And afraid of what I would discover if I left home? Other people like me or none at all?” 

Aleksander was silent for a long time. 

“Scared that you would love it?” he asked. “Scared that you would want to leave?” 

Alina paused. 

“Possibly.” 

He squeezed her hand. 

“Just because we’re getting married in Russia and going on a honeymoon doesn’t mean that we won’t be back, Alinochka. We can live in Paris, or here in Burgundy. The where doesn’t matter to me. Only that I’m with you.”

Alina looked at Aleksander and smiled. 

For all his talk about how he wasn’t kind or good, Alina didn’t buy it. At least, not when it came to her.

“I’m ready for a change, Sasha. Maybe we’ll go back to Paris, maybe we won’t, but as long as we have each other, and visit my Aunt every so often, I don’t mind where we end up,” she said, shrugging. 

“Somewhere cloudy is my only condition,” he said. “Days are too beautiful to spend inside.” 

“I agree,” she said, with a smile. 

“And good wildlife for hunting of course.” 

She nodded. 

“Of course.” 

“And you haven’t really lived until you’ve hunted a bear, malyshka. Somewhere with bears too.” 

Alina giggled. 

“I think this list of optional places is shrinking.” 

The corners of his mouth turned up. 

“Any other conditions?” she quipped in amusement. 

“Only you,” he said seriously. “With no clothing, preferably.” 

Alina snorted.

“You have a one-track mind, Sasha,” she said. 

He tutted. 

“I waited a thousand years for you, malyshka,” he reminded her. “If you think I would be satiated after a few weeks of lovemaking, you are sorely mistaken. I would spend the next few centuries worshiping your body all day, everyday if I had my way.” 

Alina’s eyes darkened at his words and she bit her bottom lip, suddenly thinking indecent thoughts

“Is that so?” she murmured, lowly.

“Yes,” he said, pulling her closer to him. 

Alina couldn’t help but admire Aleksander in the brisk morning light. His dark brown, almost black waves contrasted with his fair skin and the thick navy blue turtleneck sweater he wore. His sharp jawline which looked like it was carved from Michelangelo’s marble that she wanted to nibble on. His full, dark brows. His lush mouth. 

He was more gorgeous than any male model. Wondered how much money brands like Giorgio Armani, Versace and Gucci would pay to have him as their muse. Once again she was suddenly overwhelmed by his beauty– and still couldn’t believe that such a man was hers. 

He cupped her cheeks in his large hands and leaned down to kiss her. It was a demanding kiss. Possessive. The pure sensuality in it had her moaning into his mouth and she couldn’t help but thread her fingers into his silky hair and tug. He walked them backward so that Alina’s back hit a nearby tree with a loud thud.

With absolutely no exertion on his part, Aleksander lifted her with one hand like a doll so that she could wrap her denim clad legs around his hips. When she felt the hard press of his cock against her center, she mewled. 

He murmured into the shell of her ear with a deep voice that had her pussy clenching.

“Perhaps our tour of the cellar can wait?” 

Alina nodded. 

“Good girl,” he said with a dark smile before walking them further into the woodland. 

And if they had twigs and leaves in their hair when they returned to the abbey, well, that was just part of the tour.  

“Safe travels,” Ana whispered to Alina a few days later. 

“Thank you, Auntie,” Alina murmured back, clasping her Aunt’s hands in her own. 

Aleksander stood by the car, loading their luggage into the trunk, giving the two of them privacy even though they all knew he could easily hear their conversation. 

They’d spent a total of four days at the convent. So that Aleksander could see her childhood home and get to know Ana. Alas, four days was a long time to have a man visiting the abbey, no matter how much the nuns loved and trusted Alina. 

And anyways, they needed to be in Russia soon. 

“You’re happy?” Ana asked Alina. “Truly?”

She nodded and smiled. 

“The happiest I’ve ever been. Finding Aleksander…,” she sighed. “It’s changed everything. I don’t feel alone anymore.”

Ana’s throat bobbed, but she nodded briskly. 

“Good,” she murmured. “Good. Promise me you’ll call?” 

Alina nodded. 

“Every week.” 

The two embraced in a tight hug, neither moving for a long time. Alina basked in the comforting smell of her aunt. Like Provence lavender, fresh soap and sunlight. 

“I love you, Alina. So much,” her Aunt said, a bit shakily. “And I’m proud of you for going after what you want. It’s scary sometimes, leaving what you know.”

Alina blinked away tears. 

“I love you too, Auntie. I’m going to miss you so much.” 

“As will I,” Ana murmured.

The pair slowly pulled away from each other, each one hesitant to break the embrace. 

“I have a gift for you,” Ana said, pulling a little black box out of the pocket of her brown tweed coat. She handed it to Alina. 

Alina raised an eyebrow in curiosity as she opened it. 

“Oh!” she said in delight, taking in the beautiful jade drop earrings nestled into the velvet. They were delicate and feminine and so pretty. 

“They were Maman’s,” Ana said. “From China. A family heirloom and her prized possession. She wore them on her wedding day to Père.”

When Alina began to protest, Ana held up her hand.

“No, take them. Consider them your something old.” 

Alina swallowed and nodded. 

“Thank you, Auntie.”

Ana smiled before turning to Aleksander. 

“And you!” she called into the chilly air. Aleksander looked up from where he stood by the car. 

“Take care of my girl.” 

Ana’s tone was light, and a bit playful but Aleksander didn’t blink. Didn’t even crack a smile. 

“I will,” he promised. “Always.” 

It was hours later when Aleksander and Alina landed in Saint Petersburg after a four hour, first-class flight from Charles de Gaulle. 

Alina had spent the flight sipping champagne and skimming a Russian dictionary in her little reclining pod while Aleksander helped her with pronunciation and grammar from beside her. 

It was late when they arrived in Russia, past midnight, and outside the large windows it was dark and snowing as was typical this time of year. 

Pulkovo airport was rather generic– it was big and grey like so many airports, so Alina didn’t instantly get a vibe from it, although it was decorated nicely for Christmas with large sparkling trees with golden star ornaments and garlands. Even though it was late, the airport was extremely busy and Alina recognized it as the pre-Christmas rush to get home.

She admired all of the fashionable Russian travelers in their fur coats and hats. Alina herself had already been instructed by Aleksander to wear a scarf over her hair and tied at the chin like a little babushka. Even still, it did little to prevent stares thrown their way. 

“This way,” Aleksander murmured to her, as he steered them and their trolley of luggage towards the parking garage. Waiting for them was another shiny black car, this one was bigger however, more like an SUV. Aleksander loaded their bags into the trunk before pressing a swift kiss to her lips. 

“We’ll spend some time in the city after Christmas. But first, I want to show you my favorite place. It’s a few hours drive.” 

Alina nodded, excited at the prospect of seeing her favorite person’s favorite place. Excited to be in Aleksander’s home country. Her father, Alexei’s, home country. Like a look into her own heritage. 

“Where are we going?” she asked, once they were both buckled into the car. She pulled the colorful scarf from her hair. 

Aleksander maneuvered them easily out of the airport carpark and entered the motorway effortlessly. In fact, he barely needed to look at the road.  

It was decidedly attractive. 

“We’re headed north-east, going around the top of Lake Ladoga near the Finish border to the Republic of Karelia.That’s where the house is.” 

Alina smiled and settled into the comfortable leather seat. Warm air blew out of the vents and Alina blinked heavily. It had been a long few days. 

“Sleep, my love. I’ll wake you when we get there.” 

At his prompt, Alina yawned. 

Aleksander chuckled. 

“But I don’t want to miss anything,” she said rather petulantly, glancing out the dark window. 

“We’ll be on the motorway for most of the drive and it’s too dark to see much anyways.”

“Fine,” she murmured, yawning again. “But wake me if there’s anything interesting to see.” 

“Of course,” he agreed easily.

With the thrum of the engine lulling her into a sleepy state, and Aleksander’s soothing hum of The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, Alina fell easily into sleep. 

“Alina, malyshka. Wake up.” 

Alina blinked awake. 

“We’re almost there,” Aleksander said. “I thought you might want to see the final bit of the drive.”

“We are?” she asked, disbelieving. Alina sat up straighter and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “How long was I asleep for?” 

Aleksander smiled. 

“Just about five hours.” 

“Oh my,” she murmured. She must’ve been more tired than she had thought.  

Alina peered out of the car window. 

Aleksander was still driving at his fast pace but instead of the straight motorway, she found them speeding along a very quiet, winding country road. The sky which had been dark when Alina fell asleep now indicated the first light of dawn. She was delighted to find that they were surrounded by the most stunning wintry landscape– large snow covered mountains and an abundance of tall frosty pine trees. It was gorgeous. 

Soon, Aleksander turned off the main mountain road onto a narrower track as they continued deeper into the forested terrain. They drove about thirty more minutes, turning down various narrow one-way roads. 

They didn’t pass any buildings or see any other cars. Wherever they were headed, it was sure to be extremely private. 

Finally, just when Alina thought the anticipation of waiting would kill her, Aleksander slowed his pace and they rounded a final bend and the snowy pines revealed the house. 

“Oh!” Alina breathed, leaning forward in her seat to get a better view. 

The house before them was beautiful and so unique. Like nothing she’d ever seen before. And well, house was a modest term. It looked more like a small ski chalet. 

The first thing that captured Alina’s attention was the color.  The home was blue. Built from wood and painted a muted teal that contrasted lovely with the white winter background.

The three storied property boasted numerous white-framed windows which were decorated with ornate wooden detailing. The thick white trim which lined the eave was the same, carved to look like a lacy snowflake. Alina couldn’t help but think that the pretty decorations made the building look like a gingerbread house. 

She counted multiple blue brick chimneys and the left side of the home boasted a rounded corner, almost like a short tower, topped with a small onion dome covered in snow. 

She didn’t know much about architectural styles, but she could tell that it was distinctively Eastern-european and so, so lovely. 

“What do you think?” Aleksander asked, as he pulled the car into the driveway. 

“It’s so pretty,” she said, smiling. “Like the candy house from Hansel and Gretel.” 

Beside her, her mate smiled. 

“It’s called a dacha. Most Russians who live in cities own dachas that they visit in the summer or wintertime– it’s like a vacation home. I come here when I want to be alone. There’s a lot of wildlife to hunt and no one else lives for miles. I pay an exorbitant amount of money to keep it off Google Maps.” 

“Really?” Alina asked, eyebrows raised. “How does one even do that?”

Aleksander smirked. 

“I know the right people.” 

They stepped out of the car and Alina inhaled deeply, trying to get a sense of this new place. It smelled like crisp pine needles, tree bark, a hint of spruce and fresh, clean snow. The perfect scent for Christmas. 

Together, they took the bags from the car and walked up the snow-lined drive to the front door. When Aleksander stomped his feet on the outdoor mat to clean his shoes of snow before entering, Alina followed. 

Upon entering the dacha, Alina found herself surprised again. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, maybe dark leathers and woods, like an Aleksander-esque aesthetic, moody and atmospheric and sophisticated, but an almost cottagecore feel was not what she had pictured. 

The entryway opened into a large living area and the furnishings were a riot of colors and textures that went together effortlessly. There were sage green velvet couches and matching armchairs with handmade-looking quilts draped over. A cherry wood coffee table laden with books and magenta candlesticks in crystal holders. A huge fireplace and white-wood mantle with a romantic lakeside landscape painting in a thick golden frame above it. Parquet wood floors with a periwinkle floral rug covering it. So many bookshelves, crammed with books, and various knick knacks decorating the space– like small model ships, stained glass lamps, checkered pillows and porcelain vases filled with dried flowers. 

The effect was like something out of an interior design book. Cozy and slightly cluttered, but elegant and so homey. 

The scent inside was slightly musty– as if no one had been here in awhile, but Alina figured that with opening all the windows for a few hours, the faint moth ball smell would dissipate. 

Just past the living area, Alina noticed a wall of windows and she unconsciously moved closer. Walking through the space, she found herself in a small glass conservatory with white and terracotta checked marble flooring. A wrought iron chandelier hung from the ceiling, less glittery and ornate than the ones in his Paris home, and there was a round marble table with wicker chairs clustered around it. But Alina’s attention was captured by the view outside. The back of the dacha overlooked a large frozen lake. 

It was like a scene from The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe. 

She turned and looked at Aleksander. 

He was already watching her. Waiting for her reaction. 

“It’s stunning, Aleksander,” she murmured. “I see why you love it here.”

He slowly approached her and Alina unexpectedly got butterflies. 

It was like deja vu.  

This moment paralleled her first visit to his Paris home. 

Standing in front of his window, and his slow but intentional approach. 

“This dacha was commissioned for me in the eighteenth-century by Peter the Great. It was built to be a family retreat. He expected me to marry and fill the space with children, passing it along to future generations,” he sighed. “Peter was wrong about the children of course, but I’ve been waiting a long time to share this place with my mate.” 

Aleksander’s eyes were serious. They swirled with an intensity that she now recognized. A combination of hunger, love, regret, and a bit of disbelief. 

“Thank you for bringing me here,” she whispered, standing on her tiptoes. She brushed her lips against his softly. Dragged a fingernail along his sharp, stubbled jaw. His eyes fluttered closed at her ministrations. 

“I’m excited to be here with you,” she said, blinking up at him. “I’m excited for… everything. Everything with you.” 

Aleksander cupped her cheeks and kissed her. 

Alina sighed in pleasure the moment their lips touched. She leaned into the kiss greedily and twined her arms around his neck. And she practically purred when Aleksander sucked on her bottom lip. 

His hands ran through her loose silky strands before he was cupping her jaw, tilting her head to make the angle deeper. Alina nipped at his lips, causing Aleksander to let out a soft growl that made Alina’s panties grow damp. 

Their tongues brushed and Alina mewled at the rightness she felt. Heaven was Aleksander’s mouth, she was sure. 

She couldn’t help but run her hands along his delicious body as they kissed, starting at his strong shoulders and then moving to his biceps. Her hands found his firm chest and she slid her hands under his sweater and shirt. When her hands found his bare skin, slightly cool compared to her ultra-warm skin, he shuddered into her touch. She ghosted her fingers over each of his defined abdominals, playing with the light dusting of hair at his waistband.

Without saying a word, Aleksander lifted Alina and two seconds later, they were upstairs, Aleksander having run them up two flights of wooden stairs to a cozy attic bedroom that must have been his, well theirs, now. 

She didn’t have much time to admire the view from the floor-to-ceiling windows or the lovely furnishings because Aleksander started to pull her clothing from her body. 

First her tall boots, then her charcoal grey sweater and tee shirt. He snapped the front of her champagne colored satin bra impatiently and pulled off her jeans. The matching satin thong never stood a chance as it was carelessly ripped off and thrown across the room. 

Before she could even blink, Aleksander had pushed her into a cream-colored armchair and spread her legs for him. 

Alina gasped when he knelt before her and stared intensely at her exposed chatte, somehow still a bit shy even though they’d made love dozens of times. His dark, hungry eyes confirmed her suspicions. Her pussy was already puffy and glistening for him. 

With one quick motion, he pulled her to the edge of the chair and buried his face into her cunt. He wasted no time teasing her. Instead, he dove his tongue into her drenched pussy like a starving man and ate her out with abandon. 

Alina melted into the chair instantly and hiccupped at the mind-numbing sensation– eyes fluttering shut. She grew more aroused with every new lick, bite and suck. The pleasure was excruciating. When she started squirming, she felt Aleksander’s heavy arm settle on her lower stomach, stopping the movement. Unable to wriggle around, Alina buried a hand into her mate’s thick locks and pulled.  

When his tongue flicked against her clit better than any vibrator, Alina ground her core into his face and keened. 

Dark eyes watched her as she fell apart, melting into the chair like a boneless mess. 

“I missed that,” Aleksander murmured, from where he still knelt on the floor looking like a god. Alina felt a new rush of arousal as she beheld his shiny scruff. “I missed the taste of you. Sweet like honey.” 

Alina blinked.

Then, she pounced like the predator she was and knocked Aleksander to the floor. With unbelievable speed, she ripped his clothes off, throwing them every which way. 

Below her, Aleksander chuckled. 

“Are you excited to have your way with me, malyshka?” he said, petting her bare thigh.

Alina looked down at her mate who was in nothing but his black boxer-briefs– looking so sexy that it should honestly be illegal. Like some kind of x-rated Calvin Klein ad. 

Alina cupped the huge bulge in her hand and squeezed. Aleksander growled lowly. 

“Yes,” she murmured, unembarrassed. “I want your cock in my mouth.” 

His eyes widened in surprise. 

She pulled down the tight black fabric and her mate’s long, gorgeous cock sprang free. Once again, she marvelled at its unreal size and beauty. She wanted it everywhere. 

Below her, Aleksander’s jaw was tense and his eyes burned at her obscene words. 

Never breaking eye contact with him, she slowly moved down his body so that she sat on her knees, in between his parted legs.

She slowly leaned forward to kiss the tip lightly. It twitched in response and she felt Aleksander’s muscles tense. Then, like a kitten, Alina lapped at the tip, tasting the salty drops of precum on his pink head while blinking up at him. 

She hummed in appreciation at his taste. She found she liked it. 

Aleksander groaned. 

Enabled by his response, she leaned forward again and licked him long and slow base to tip. Thank you porn for teaching me how to give head, she thought. 

She wrapped a dainty hand around him, holding him at the base and inspected his dark pink head that was continuing to leak. Leaning forward, she rubbed her lips on the blunt tip of his cock, applying the droplets to her lips like her favorite black honey lip stain. 

“Jesus Christ, Alina.”

Licking the droplets from her lips, Alina finally engulfed his hard length in her mouth. She was proud of herself when she opened her throat and took all of him inside– feeling him at the very back of her throat. 

As it turned out, she didn’t have a gag reflex. 

Who knew? 

Aleksander’s control seemed to snap as his large hands wove their way into her silver tresses. He cupped the nape of her neck, his thumbs on her cheekbones as she slowly bobbed up and down on his length, hollowing her cheeks for suction and massaging him with her tongue. 

The groans he let out made her impossibly wet, and she swallowed his length down further, pushing herself into a deep puppy pose. 

Aleksander’s thrusts grew more erratic as he fucked her mouth– progressively getting harder and faster. Alina sucked obediently as she blinked up at him through teary eyes and the look on his face made her moan. 

Like she was the most divine thing he’d ever seen.

Using one hand, she reached for his heavy sack and played with him, rolling his balls around, while her other hand lightly gripped his thigh. 

Aleksander cursed in Russian. 

Feeling adventuresome, Alina flicked her tongue back and forth against Aleksander’s head with her rapid vampire speed. 

With a deep, shuddering groan, Aleksander came. 

She felt the long milky ribbons of his release shoot down her throat. She swallowed around his softening, then hardening length, making sure to get every last drop before pulling away with a satisfied pop. 

She really didn’t mind the taste, she thought, licking her lips. 

Alina didn’t even have time to blink before Aleksander rolled her over on her stomach and pushed into her from behind. She moaned at the delightful feeling, feeling so incredibly full, pushing herself more firmly against him. 

He was hot and hard and stretched her so well. 

She looked at him over her shoulder and found his eyes to be absolutely smoldering. 

“Yes, Sasha,” she murmured as he fucked her, eyes fluttering closed. Her fingers curled into the thick fibers of the rug as she held on for dear, dear life. 

Thank god, she didn’t get carpet burn. 

His fingers worked her clit as he pumped mercilessly into her wet pussy (fuck, was he good at multitasking), and Alina pushed eagerly back against his cock. 

“My sweet, perfect girl,” he rasped. 

“Sasha, s’il vous plaît,” she begged. 

Aleksander pulled her torso up so that his chest was to her back. One of his hands circled her throat while the other one toyed with her clit. 

She moaned at the pressure– both on her neck and clit and wriggled against him seeking more friction. 

Suddenly they were standing, Aleksander walking them to the bed where he positioned them so that they could both see into the wall mirror. 

Alina mewled at the image they made– such opposites. Feminine and masculine. Light and dark. She, looking absolutely ravished with her swollen lips and messy hair, and him with dark hair and feral eyes.

He pushed her chest onto the bed while he remained standing behind her and was instantly thrusting into her again. 

She shuddered in pleasure. 

Alina couldn’t help but watch them in the mirror. Watch him. So glorious and handsome. So strong and in control as he pumped in and out of her. 

Dark eyes never leaving hers. 

His hand gathered her silver hair and pulled. 

Her jaw dropped open at the sensation in a silent cry. 

Unexpectedly, Aleksander added an uptick to his thrusts and hit the place inside her that made Alina scream. 

She came suddenly and violently as her pussy tensed and untensed around him. She melted into the feather bed with a final coo. 

When Aleksander finally came inside her, he shuddered with a low groan, emptying himself inside her. Alina purred at the warmth bathing her insides as she laid face first on the bed. 

As they both recovered, Aleksander brushed a finger down the knobs of her spine. 

“Shall I show you your ring, now?” 

A half an hour later, once they were freshly showered and dressed in matching fluffy white bathrobes, Aleksander led them downstairs, descending deeper and deeper into the house. 

They were already in the basement, a space that had been converted into another lounge, when Aleksander showed them to another door. 

When he unlocked it, it led to another staircase. 

Alina lifted a silver brow. 

“This is the last one, I promise,” Aleksander said. 

They took the staircase down, now two floors below ground level, and reached a large industrial looking metal door. There was a keypad beside it and Aleksander rapidly entered a thirteen digit code and disabled some kind of alarm. 

Alina raised her eyebrows. 

Then it hit her. 

Oh. 

The metal door was a safe. 

“What’s with all the security?” she asked, interest piqued. 

Aleksander tucked a damp piece of silver hair behind her ear and stroked her lobe softly. 

“We’ve accumulated a lot of assets,” he explained. “Things we’ve collected for centuries. We have a number of locations we keep it all and we employ the same technology that banks and museums use– temperature and humidity controls and an oxygen filtration system.”  

Aleksander opened the door.

Alina’s jaw dropped. 

Her heart started to race. 

The room was filled with treasure. 

It was like stepping into the Louvre or the British Museum. 

She didn’t know what to look at first as she slowly entered the colossal, low-lit room. If she was fully human, her hands would’ve shook. 

There were numerous metal-wire racks of hung paintings like in a museum storeroom and Alina drug her eyes across the beautiful paintings– some styles looking a little bit too familiar. Greek and Roman white marble statues and busts on pedestals– no doubt thousands of years old and breathtakingly beautiful. Glass cases full of coin hoards, from her initial scan some seemed to be Roman, Byzantine, Viking and Norman. 

More cases full of glittering jewelry– necklaces and bracelets made from rubies, emeralds, pearls and sapphires, shimmering iridescently on black velvet. What looked like a large  fabergé egg. Lots and lots of gorgeous antique furniture, some of which looked suspiciously like Boulle and Chippendale. Decorative vases, some which looked ancient and others ultra-modern. Gorgeous tapestries depicting biblical and arboreal scenes. Canvas mannequins modeling different period-typical clothing. And shelves and shelves of books behind glass doors. 

A golden Egyptian sarcophagus.  

“Oh Mon Dieu,” Alina breathed, holding a hand to her chest. Her heart was racing– she could practically feel her heartbeat in her ears. 

Beside her, Aleksander chuckled. 

“Yes. It’s rather impressive, isn’t it?” 

Alina just blinked. 

“We’ve donated many things to museums over the years, but there are some items we just can’t bear to get rid of. Or can’t explain the provenance of.” 

“This is just one of many, you said?” she asked in disbelief. 

“Yes, milaya.” 

She swallowed heavily. 

Aleksander took her hand and started to move them further into the room. 

“I know it’s overwhelming. We can come down here as often as you like to explore. I can explain what everything is, where it all came from. But there’s something I want to show you first.” 

He stopped in front of a small glass case. 

Alina shuffled closer in her fluffy slippers. 

And blinked. 

Inside, there were a dozen different engagement rings. 

“Even though I lost hope that I had a mate,” he began softly. “I still collected things over the years that I liked. Things that I hoped my future mate, you , would like.”

He gestured to the beautiful glittering rings. 

“These are all yours, Alina. Choose the one you like, or wear them all.” 

Alina stared at the array of sparkling rings and blinked up at him. 

“Sasha,” she began, not even sure what to say. “This is crazy. I can’t accept all of these!”

A wry smile made its way onto his face.

“Alina, darling. These are just the rings. I have other jewelry, books, clothes, art and properties for you. I have your birthday presents for the next few decades sorted.” 

Her jaw dropped, again. 

No doubt noticing how her mouth seemed to open and close like an unattractive fish, he spoke again. 

“My love,” he said, slightly amused. He stroked her back through the thick fabric of the robe and pulled her into his chest. “You haven’t quite seemed to grasp the fact that I am a thousand year old multi-millionaire vampire who aims to spend the rest of my existence spoiling you to an obscene level.” 

Her eyes widened. 

She knew he was wealthy but when he said it like that. 

He continued in a playful tone. 

“Besides, I’ve already bought these items, Alina. It would be rude not to accept them.”

Alina huffed out a laugh. 

Aleksander shepherded her closer to the glass case. 

“Do you like any of them? If not, we can go ring shopping together. Anywhere you want.” 

Alina’s chest grew tight. 

“They’re all so beautiful,” she said genuinely, looking at the rings. They seemed to wink at her from their spots nestled into the black velvet.

And it was true. They were all different– from different eras with differing stones and cuts but the one thing they had in common was that they were all so lovely. 

She wasn’t surprised– Aleksander had impeccable, expensive taste. 

There was a beautiful emerald cut, emerald-stone ring, with a thin gold band. A thick banded art deco looking ring laden with needle-cut diamonds that looked like it had come straight out of The Great Gatsby. A large sapphire ring– so dark it was almost black with two smaller diamonds on the side. There was even a pale pink diamond ring with smaller diamonds surrounding it like a wreath. 

She studied them for a long time, but her eyes kept going back to one. 

“Can I try that one?” she asked, finally. 

“Of course,” Aleksander said, opening the case. 

He handed her the ring. 

The band was a thin yellow gold, pretty and delicate. And the large oval diamond in the center of the ring was stunning. It was so clear and brilliant. Alongside the central diamond were two smaller ones on the shoulder, framing it. 

She slid it on. 

It fit perfectly. 

Alina held her breath as she wiggled her fingers around, watching how the diamonds sparkled in the light. 

It was classic and timeless, pretty and feminine. 

It was absolutely stunning. 

She felt giddy.

“I love this one,” she said, smiling up at Aleksander. 

He smiled in return. 

“An excellent, and rather fitting choice, I have to say. I bought this ring in Paris a few decades ago from a little family-run boutique. The oval diamond is from an older Victorian ring that was destroyed during the blitz.”

Alina, who hadn’t torn her eyes away from the stunning ring, smiled.

It was from Paris. 

“It’s perfect, Aleksander. I love it. Merci beaucoup.”  

“If you ever get tired of it, you can switch it out for one of the others. Or we can buy a new one.” 

Alina shook her head at his nonsense. 

That wouldn’t be happening. 

Aleksander leaned down to kiss her. 

When they broke apart, Aleksander’s eyes were glittering mischievously. 

“Now that that’s all sorted,” he began, stroking her cheek. “How do you feel about getting dressed and coming with me to cut down a Christmas tree? Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, after all.”

Alina nodded and smiled.

That sounded like a dream.  

She’d help him pick out a tree and they could decorate it. Then they could start a fire and snuggle on the couch and read one of the many books in the dacha.  

“That sounds perfect, mon amour. But first you have some explaining to do,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Did my eyes deceive me or was that a Vermeer you had hanging up?”

By the slow smile that crept onto his lips, Alina had her answer.